Harry Potter and the Eclipse Princess
by Molten Thunder
Summary: The magical world has been split between wizards and magi for centuries, and both sides are happy to pretend the other does not exist. Unfortunately all good things must come to an end as Harry Potter finds himself growing up on the wrong side of the magical divide. Harry Potter/ Nasuverse AU. Sporadic updates.
1. The Fateful Night

**Announcement for older readers: As of March 27, 2018, some changes have been made to several of the prologue chapters (5, 6, 7, 10) and an entirely new chapter has been added to it- Chapter 8. The original chapter 8- Fallout- is now chapter 9.**

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 **Chapter 1- The Fateful Night**

 **Note: There is a rather long excerpt from chapter 1 of Philosopher's Stone in this chapter as it felt like the best way to start the story. This is very unlikely to happen in the future.**

It was a quiet night in village of Godric's Hollow. It was a clear, cold, completely unremarkable night. At least it was until a house exploded. A house which seemingly wasn't there moments earlier. A closer look at the situation showed that about half the roof had been blown outwards from inside the house, as if there had been a gas explosion but without the fire. Startled neighbors exited their homes to take a better look at the damage and see if the family needed any help, then suddenly remembered that they had something urgent to complete and promptly forgot about the explosion until much later.

A tall young man with dark hair stood in front of the building, a monstrous motorcycle next to him. His face shifted rapidly between different expressions, appearing torn between anger, fear, and hope. Eventually he made up his mind, visibly steeled himself, and entered the building. A few minutes later the man left again and collapsed on the porch in shock and grief. He remained catatonic for an indeterminable period of time, but finally came to a decision. Rising, he removed an elegantly carved stick from his pocket, his features now hard and angry, and strode over to his motorcycle.

Just as he turned on the ignition and prepared to leave, another man appeared. A very large man.

"Dumbledore sen' me. What happened Sirius?" He asked.

"They are dead, but so is he. Harry is alive, though, and has a rather nasty wound on his forehead." The now named Sirius sighed, his features softening. "I'm not sure how it is he remains alive and our enemy dead, when the opposite should have occurred. I'll bet that it was something Lily did, she is, was, the smartest witch I know, knew."

"Well I reckon Dumbledore'll want ter see the kid and make sure he's all right. What are you going ter do now?" The large man asked.

"Me? I'm going after the one responsible for this." Sirius growled, his face becoming hard once more. "Take my bike, it'll be the easiest way to get him to Dumbledore. Look after Harry for me Hagrid."

And with that, Sirius dismounted the bike, tossed the keys to Hagrid, and disappeared with a pop.

Hagrid entered the house and, a few minutes later, exited carrying a young child wrapped in blankets. He climbed onto the motorcycle, fired it up, and flew it off into the night. He never noticed the figure that emerged from the shadows next to the destroyed house. Crimson eyes followed the bike until long after it was out of sight.

The following night in a quiet suburban neighborhood called Privet Drive, a man suddenly appeared in front of a rather stiff looking tabby cat.

 **(Start excerpt from The Sorcerer's Stone)**

 _Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore._

 _Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."_

 _He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it._

" _Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."_

 _He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled._

" _How did you know it was me?" she asked. "My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."_

" _You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall._

" _All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."_

 _Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."_

" _You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."_

" _I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."_

 _She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"_

" _It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"_

" _A what?"_

" _A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."_

" _No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone —"_

" _My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."_

" _I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."_

" _You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."_

" _Only because you're too — well —noble to use them."_

" _It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."_

 _Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"_

 _It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer._

" _What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."_

 _Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped._

" _Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"_

 _Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily. Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."_

 _Dumbledore nodded glumly. "It's — it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"_

" _We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know." Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"_

" _Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"_

" _I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."_

" _You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"_

" _It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."_

" _A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future — there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name!"_

" _Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"_

 _Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it._

" _Hagrid's bringing him."_

" _You think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"_

" _I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore._

" _I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"_

 _A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them._

 _If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets._

" _Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?" "Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."_

" _No problems, were there?" "No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."_

 _Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning._

" _Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall._

" _Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."_

" _Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"_

" _Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house._

" _Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog._

" _Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!" "S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it._

" _But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles —"_

" _Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out._

" _Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."_

" _Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."_

 _Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night._

" _I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply._

 _Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four. "Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone._

 **End Excerpt**

Moments after the old wizard had left, a figure detached itself from the shadows surrounding the house and walked towards the child. It appeared to be a girl no older than 15. She had pale, almost luminescent, skin and jet black hair that fell to her waist. She was wearing a knee-length black gothic dress which blended in with the night. Her face could only be described as perfect, it was soft and kind and she practically radiated innocence. It did not appear possible for her to even say think something unkind, so pure and good did she appearance. She had an elegant beauty, almost doll-like in appearance. But her most striking feature was her eyes. Her deep crimson eyes that appeared to be softly glowing in the dead of the night.

But, as they say, appearances can be deceiving. The girl was Altrouge Brunestud, the ninth Dead Apostle Ancestor and master of Primate Murder, the Beast of Gaia. She was known as the Eclipse Princess of Black Blood and was one of the most dangerous beings on the planet.

Altrouge soon reached the child which had been abandoned on the doorstep of a family that would have despised him simply for being different, picked him up, and vanished into the night.

 **-End of chapter 1-**

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 **Author's Note:**

This story began back in February of 2015 inspired by Lupine Horror's story Fate's Gamble, but writer's block and a busy semester prevented much progress. Despite having far more free time now that I have graduated from college, only a few new chapters have been writing since my original writing spree (the first 5 chapters were completed within a month, but in the year since that only 3 more have been finished and the first 5 heavily edited). The events of Fate/Stay Night and Tsukihime will occur eventually, but for now the story will focus on Hogwarts and throwing Nasuverse characters into the Wizarding World. Also, there will eventually be pairings, but do not expect anything to occur before Harry's 4th year. Suggestions, however, are welcome.

I hope you all enjoy my story, just know that if something exists for the sake of comedy that should not occur or exist at that time, blame Zelretch. Somehow it is his fault. It's always his fault. Both Nasuverse and Potterverse can be rather dark so humor will occur when possible.


	2. Boredom

**Chapter 2- Boredom**

Altrouge Brunestud was bored. Those four words were enough to make magic users across the world break out in cold sweat. While her bouts of boredom were not nearly as frequent or legendary as those of Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, the Wizard Marshal and fourth dead apostle ancestor, hers were far more deadly.

When Zelretch was bored, people were pranked mercilessly typically leading to torment, humiliation, riotous laughter from others (generally Zelretch himself), and sometimes insanity. To be the target of his attention often ended with a trip to the psychiatric ward and a complete loss of dignity. His pranks were creative and left the Mage's Association scratching their heads wondering how he pulled it off. The magi in the Clock Tower still laughed at the memory of Lorelei Bartheomeloi in a pink magical girl outfit complete with wand waxing poetic on her love of dead apostles, but they only dared do so when they were sure she was out of earshot. Decapitation tended to be a major setback when studying magecraft after all.

When Altrouge was bored cities vanished off the face of the earth leaving nothing except a mountain of rubble and piles of corpses drained of blood.

The very worst instance of Altrouge's boredom occurred during the 14th century and became known as the Black Plague. It decimated Europe, and would have destroyed it completely had her battle with the last of the True Ancestors, Arcueid Bruestud, not occurred. The excitement of the fight, which resulted in a stalemate, eradicated Altrouge's boredom and ended the plague. However, the damage was done and nearly 75 million died earning her the title "Eclipse Princess of Black Blood".

And now, in mid-1981, she was bored again. The magical world, both Wizarding and Magus, had been almost stagnant for over a century. There was nothing new or exciting to do that she hadn't already done a dozen times. Altrouge had even enrolled herself into Durmstrang during the 60's and attended for all seven years, secretly of course. Not even the thought of unleashing her pet, Primate Murder, on the nearby city of Nuremberg interested her. She glanced down at the paper she had stolen from a passing postal owl.

* * *

 _August 10th, 1981_

 _You-Know-Who Strikes Again!_

 _The latest act in You-Know-Who's campaign of terror was an attack on the village of Hogsmeade. More than two dozen of his death eaters attacked early in the morning destroying ten houses and damaging three others before Aurors could respond. The damage done, the death eaters vanished as suddenly as they had arrived leaving only death and chaos in their wake. Among those confirmed as dead are Fabian and Gideon Prewett who had been residing in a cottage at the edge of town. The minister says..._

* * *

She tossed the paper onto the ground next to her with a sigh; it was just more of the same. Thingy-mort (she could never remember his name as the papers never printed it) was still gallivanting around the British countryside striking terror with his hit-and-run tactics. How boring. At least Grindelwald had created an actual army and had no qualms about wading into battle at its head.

"Well, I suppose it has been a while since I last 'played' with a dark lord. I missed out on Grindewald as I was in Argentina at the time." Altrouge sighed again. "Might as well go check it out as there is nothing better to do. I do hope he at least makes the chase interesting."

She jumped off the branch she had been sitting on and began to walk towards the city. "I suppose the best place to start would be London. Zelretch surely knows where he is and can point me in the right direction."

* * *

Thomas Dent liked to think of himself as a first rate magus. Being from a family of magi five generations long and having average abilities, he wasn't anything special. He dreamed of becoming a department head one day, but barring extraordinary circumstances it would never happen. However, if he didn't delude himself about his own abilities he would never be able to leave bed in the morning so it wasn't necessarily bad that he did so.

'Still,' he thought, 'it would be nice to have someone finally recognize my ability. I would make a far better department head than Rocco.'

Thomas sighed and finished preparing his lecture materials for the day. Every day was the same: wake up, eat breakfast, prepare his lecture, eat lunch, deliver his lecture, research in his workshop, eat dinner, continue experimenting, and finally go to sleep only to repeat the process the next day.

'No! I mustn't think that way, I WILL be a department head. I only need to continue doing my best every day and that outcome is inevitable.'

And with that he put his notes into his briefcase and left his workshop into the maze of passages that make up the Clock Tower.

The Clock Tower is one of the three main branches of the Mage's Association and the headquarters of the association as a whole. It is located, as its name implies, underneath downtown London. Much of it is hidden beneath the British Museum, completely unknown to mundane folk (or, as wizards call them, muggles). It is a large underground complex which stretches from the Museum to Big Ben (where its name originated), the Houses of Parliament, and the Tower of London.

Unlike the neighboring Ministry of Magic, the focus is on research not governance. The reason for this difference is primarily due to the significant difference in the magics used by wizards and magi. There was no small amount of resentment on the magus side due to the ease with which wizards are able to wield their magics. All a wizard needs is a wand and some butchered Latin and voila! Meanwhile magi spend their whole lives delving into the mysteries of their magic and must shed blood, sweat, and tears to even use their magic. A magus walks with death after all while a wizard simply goes to school.

Because of all this, along with a number of other factors, wizards and magus have separated into two distinct communities with very little interaction. They acknowledge each other's existence and nothing else, both believing the other to be inferior. So when a mass murdering psychopath of a dark lord is running around killing Wizards, the Mage's Association ignores him as long as he leaves them alone.

As Thomas walked towards the cafeteria lost in delusions of grandeur, he failed to notice the girl walking in the opposite direction and knocked her over.

"Oh I'm dreadfully sorry about that, are you all right?"

The girl didn't answer. As Thomas looked at her he found that he did not recognize her, and that she looked rather young to be part of the Association. Perhaps she was visiting a relative.

"Are you lost?" He asked. "The corridors are rather difficult to navigate. Even I still become lost on occasion!" Thomas said with a laugh.

His laugh fell flat; the girl clearly was not amused by his attempt at humor. Silence prevailed between them once more.

The girl finally stood up, dusted herself off, then looked into his eyes and spoke.

"Where can I find Zelretch?"

Her eyes were a deep crimson, the color of blood. Thomas froze and the blood drained out of his face. He had just knocked down a dead apostle. His life was forfeit. For all his delusions of grandeur, Thomas knew he could never hope to defeat even the weakest apostle. He also knew that he was not facing a mere apostle; he could tell she was far stronger than that. She continued to stand there and stare at him, making no moves.

After what felt like hours to Thomas, but was likely no more than a few seconds, his mind restarted.

'What is an apostle doing in the Clock Tower? They usually remain in hiding far from the wrath of The Queen. Any normal apostle will be destroyed in an instant when facing her.'

And then his brain finally managed to identify the girl in front of him. She was no normal apostle. She was Altrouge Brunestud, the ninth ancestor.

His brain promptly shut down once more due to shock.

"Figures that the one time I actually need him, he's nowhere to be found," Altrouge said. "Perhaps Lorelei will have the information I want."

She released the poor magus from her gaze and began walking back the way she came.

Once she was out of sight Thomas collapsed onto the floor into a quivering pile of limbs. He still lived, somehow. He needed a drink. He needed ten drinks! Department head? What was he thinking! He couldn't even speak once he had made eye contact with that monster.

It was just too much for him, he was done. Someone else could teach his damn class. He needed to take a long vacation. The Bahamas were supposed to be nice this time of year.

* * *

Lorelei Barthomeloi, The Queen of the Clock Tower, was many things. She was an immaculate magus, more powerful than anyone else in the Association. She hated dead apostles with a burning passion that surpassed the hatred of other Barthomeloi by an order of magnitude. She was an excellent apostle hunter, purposefully fighting them when they were at their strongest so she might watch them despair before squashing them like bugs. She was so powerful she had killed two dead apostle ancestors herself in single combat.

One thing she was not, however, was being good at paperwork. She hated paperwork with a passion. Her true joy was in hunting dead apostles, and her thrice-damned paperwork kept her chained behind a desk doing her duties as the Vice Director of the Clock Tower instead of hunting her prey.

The Dead Apostles, or as mundanes call them, vampires, originated as servants of the True Ancestors, vampiric beings of great power, modeled after Brunestud of the Crimson Moon: the one and only Type-Moon. He was the Ultimate One of the moon who moved to Earth to assist Gaia, the will of the planet, in defending itself against the damage humans were causing the environment. The resulting guardians created in collaboration between Brunestud and Gaia were the True Ancestors of which only one, Arcueid Brunestud, still lives.

The True Ancestors used their vampiric abilities to turn humans into servants that had a limited form of immortality. Eventually their servants managed to overthrow the bonds of their masters and escape, becoming Dead Apostles. The twenty-seven apostles to escape became known as the Dead Apostle Ancestors and ruled over all later created apostles. Most of the original ancestors have been sealed or killed and were later replaced by strongest apostles.

As vampiric creatures, the apostles have many of the powers and weaknesses attributed to them by fiction. Because they are technically dead, they require blood to maintain their bodies, sometimes in great quantities. They are able to turn those they drain into new undead, though only a few have strong enough life force to become dead apostles themselves. Due to the condition of their bodies, most apostles are weak to sun and cannot cross large bodies of water. They also develop a number of other abilities over their long lifespan, one of the most prominent being regeneration through rewinding their body's time to a point just before they were injured.

To most the dead apostles were monsters capable of destroying towns and powerful enough to kill, drain, and then turn most magi. The ancestors, being the strongest of their kind, were insurmountable barriers much like the Types. Beings so far removed from humanity that it was almost inconceivable that they could be beaten.

To Barthomeloi they were bugs, the only thing they were good for was squashing and she was the boot. However, they were well hidden behind special barriers and it often took years to pinpoint their location so that they might be assaulted and destroyed.

Barthemeloi was currently attempting to do just that, she was trying to pinpoint the tenth dead apostle ancestor, Nrvnqsr Chaos, and was having a great deal of trouble doing so. The reports on his movement and locations were inconsistent; she simply could not triangulate his position. She glared at her stack of paperwork that had been abandoned hours ago, as if somehow it was to blame for her current predicament.

A voice spoke from behind her, "You won't find him like that you know."

She jumped. Her arm inadvertently hit the pile of paperwork she had set aside for later sending it to the floor. "What?" She had been sure she was alone in the room.

"Chaos likes travelling, he moves around far too much to pin down his location like that. Even I don't know where he is right now."

"Well I suppose that makes sense, thanks for the help miss..."

"Altrouge."

"Now I know my mind is playing tricks on me from being cooped up in my office for too long. For a minute there I hallucinated that a dead apostle ancestor was here in my office with me."

She heard giggling behind her, and turned. Sure enough, Altrouge Brunestud was standing right behind her chair _giggling_.

"I wish I had known earlier that you were this much fun," Altrouge said getting herself back under control. "I'll have to visit more often."

Barthomeloi could feel a headache forming and rubbed her temples to keep it at bay. "So what are you doing here apostle?"

"Well you see, I'm bored."

Barthomeloi froze. She knew that dead apostles were easily bored because of their lifespan and to them amusement was their ultimate goal. Most of them did it by competing against one another for territory, pretending that warfare was a game. And to them it was. But not Altrouge. Instead she amused herself by travelling around the magical world. Because of this she became bored far less than the others, but when bored tended to simply annihilate whatever community was nearest. Time seemed to stop and Altrouge's voice looped in her mind. 'One wrong move and we all die,' thought Barthomeloi. 'If she summons that monster of hers here, the Association will be destroyed in an instant with London sure to follow. I blame Zelretch for this.'

"So I remembered that there is a 'dark lord' Thingy-mort gallivanting around the countryside and want to play with him. I was in South America for the last one and missed out."

The Queen released her breath and slumped into her chair. "So you wish to find him?"

"Yup!" Altrouge said brightly, "I was going to ask Zelretch but he's nowhere to be found," she finished with a pout.

'I knew it!'

"I'm afraid I can't give you his exact location," The Queen replied, "we don't know it ourselves."

"That's fine, it would be no fun otherwise." Altrouge said walking out from behind her before jumping up and sitting on Barthomeloi's beautiful mahogany desk. The Queen resisted the urge to shove Altrouge off her baby, but the mental image gave her great pleasure.

After a moment of glorious imagination, she began to speak, "We have been tracking the movements of his followers in case he decides to come for the Association as well."

"He would have to be utterly incompetent if he did so as it would result in his imminent destruction. Thingy-mort must know that at least," Altrouge declared.

"He has proven himself to be insane, but not incompetent. It is unlikely that he will take that form of action, but it always possible," The Queen continued. "He was born a Tom Marvolo Riddle in December of 1926 and had a mundane father and magical mother who died in childbirth. Tommy now prefers to go by the name 'Lord Voldemort' and has aligned himself with the traditionalist pureblood faction despite being a half blood himself. His greatest backers include the Malfoys, the Lestranges, the Dolohovs, and the Carrows. Now as for his possible locations, we believe he might be..."

"Stop, that's enough information for me. It would be no fun if I had too much information to start with. Visiting the families you mentioned should provide plenty of leads for tracking down Tommy-mort."

Altrouge jumped off the desk and began to leave while humming softly, then stopped "Ah, as thanks for the help, I think I'll give you a **present**."

She was gone. One second the apostle was near the door to Barthomeloi's office, the next she simply could not be found. There was a sharp pain in her neck, she could not move, she was getting cold, she could not see, she could not think.

Bartheomeloi sat up with a start. She must have fallen asleep in her office while doing paperwork again. It was dark in the room; most of the lights had gone out. How long had she been out? She stretched and looked down at her desk. There was a bottle with a glass and a note. How kind of her secretary to bring her some wine for when she woke up, she was so very thirsty.

She picked up the note and read it.

 _Lorelei,_

 _As thanks for the information on Tommy-mort I have given you a gift. I imagine you are quite thirsty at the moment, enjoy the drink as it is one of the best. Once you get used to your new condition..._

Her new condition? Suddenly it all came back to her, the meeting, the "present", everything. Damn it, she was an apostle herself now, Barthomeloi realized with a groan.

 _Once you get used to your new condition, you can be number 12 since you killed the previous holder of that position, so it's only right that it becomes yours. Enjoy!_

 _Altrouge Brunestud_

"DAMN YOU ZELRETCH!"

 **-End Chapter 2-**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Altrouge is a very whimsical person. She's not really good or evil (or at least not in her own mind, most others think her evil though), but tends to be rather chaotic in her actions. A good example of this is that Altrouge did not visit The Queen intending to turn her, she simply decided to do so because she felt like it as she was heading for the door. Again, you can blame Zelretch for this occurring, along with anything else that should never occur in either canon universe. Also, it happened because I thought it would be funny to turn the most anti-vampire person in Fate into one.


	3. Lunch with Zelretch

**Chapter 3: Lunch with Zelretch is never a simple affair**

It was a beautiful day in mid-June. The air was crisp and cool and the Swiss Alps thrust out of the ground like giant teeth. Altrouge was sitting in a chair on her porch admiring the sunrise. Even now, three years later, she never tired of it.

Her modest home was located in a meadow filled with wildflowers high on the slopes of one of the towering monuments to nature's majesty. A thousand feet above the house a jagged spire of rock thrust straight into the sky. A majestic waterfall could be seen reflecting the early morning light high on the mountain as it fell several hundred feet before vanishing into the cave system below. The base of this pinnacle, where meadow met cliff, had hundreds of caves that bored into the rock filled with untold treasures and dangers. Not far down the mountain, the forest began. A forest of ancient twisted pines that had withstood the wrath of countless winters. There was a majesty to these trees not found in younger forests. When entering the woods it felt as if you had traveled back in time to a more primitive age. An age before man had conquered the world and tamed the forests.

The house itself was a simple structure with two stories. A large front porch faced down the mountain towards the rising sun. Several chairs sat upon it and a hammock hung from the overhanging balcony. There was a table next to Altrouge with a large book sitting upon it, ignored in favor of watching the sun rise from behind distant peaks.

The downstairs level of the house was built into the side of the mountain, with the second floor being at ground-level behind the building. It had a nice kitchen at the back of the house with a well-stocked pantry, and a dining room on the right side of the house. On the front side of the building, behind the porch, was a large living room with many windows providing a panoramic view of the valley below. Near the back of this room there were stairs that led up to the second level where the living quarters were located. On that floor were three moderately sized bedrooms, one for Harry, one for Altrouge, and one for guests, along with two fully furnished bathrooms and a balcony over the porch. The back side of the house, despite being above ground level, had only two windows and no doors as the roof sloped down to meet with the ground to protect the house from avalanches as they were common during the winter months.

The house also contained a basement which was filled with even more supplies, from dried meat to piles of potatoes and other root vegetables, stacks of logs next to the wood stove which heated the house, and a passage down to the underground stream which ran out of the caves above and under the house. The stream was cold and the current swift. It was used to provide water and electricity to Altrouge's dwelling as the nearest human settlement was over a dozen miles away in the valley.

Time passed and the sky brightened. Eventually, Altrouge stirred, picked up the book which lay beside her and began to read. Sounds could be heard coming from within the house now, Harry was finally up and appeared to be preparing breakfast. She had told him many times that he need not do so, he was only four after all, but the last time she had pointed that out he had pouted and said "I's almost five Alt, I'mma big boy now! Beside' you makes lunch and dinner, I need to help too." So Altrouge had given up and allowed him to prepare breakfast.

A heavenly smell drifted out one of the open windows. It appeared breakfast today would be bacon and eggs. As she was a dead apostle, Altrouge technically did not need to eat food as drinking blood was enough to sustain her. At first, she had not wanted to eat food; it did nothing to help her sustain her body. However, the pleading expression on Harry's face quickly overcame her reluctance, and his beaming smile when she did eat convinced her that she had made the correct decision. The food was heavenly. Altrouge did not know how one as young as Harry could cook such perfect food, and was even more surprised when she found eating his food reduced her thirst. As long as she did not need to do anything strenuous, such as fight another ancestor, the wonders of Harry's cooking made it so she only needed to drink blood once a week.

Harry walked out and carefully placed two plates on the table then returned to the kitchen for their drinks. He brought a glass of orange juice for himself, and a glass of blood, his blood, for Altrouge as he was well aware of her vampirism. They had discovered nearly a year earlier, after Harry had fallen and cut himself, that his blood had marvelous properties. Even a small amount provided far more energy than the blood within the average adult human. It also replenished very rapidly, not only making it nearly impossible for young Harry to die of blood loss, but also quickly healing any wounds he had. Altrouge did not know why this was the case, she had attempted to find out but the results were rather inconclusive. Her hypothesis was that it had something to do with his element or origin, it was the only reason she could think of for blood to have such mystical properties.

Finishing her thoughts, Altrouge looked down at the plate in front of her. Harry had really outdone himself that morning, mixing mushrooms and onions into the eggs along with aged English cheddar and fresh thyme.

They ate in silence, enjoying each other's company and the majestic view before them. Once finished, Harry made to collect the plates but before he could, he found himself stopped.

"Let me take care of it as thanks for such a marvelous breakfast Harry. Why don't you go off and play with Primy while I clean up."

Harry beamed at her. "Ok Alt, see you at lunch."

And with that he ran off into the meadow. A minute later a massive white wolf which was nearly twelve feet high bounded out from behind the house and rapidly closed the distance to Harry. It grabbed the back of his shirt with its massive teeth and swung the young boy onto its back while he shrieked with laughter. Then it left as quickly as it had come, charging down the mountain into the waiting forest while Harry's laughter drifted up the meadow on the morning breeze.

Altrouge smiled at his antics, cleaned the table and took everything inside to wash in the kitchen. When she returned half an hour later she found a large man with untidy grey hair and a shaggy grey beard sitting on her chair reading her book. His face was lined with age and his mouth was curved into a slight smile. The man was wearing an ornate black suit with silver trimming and a black cloak was thrown over the back of the chair. His eyes left the book and moved over to Altrouge taking in her appearance. They were red much like her own, but several shades lighter. He closed the book and stood up.

"I have to say, it's good seeing you like this. I'm not sure I've ever seen you look so content or carefree before," he stated.

Zelretch the Wizard Marshal, master of the Kaleidoscope, the second True Magic capable of inter-dimensional travel and manipulation, had come to visit.

"It's been a while old man," Altrouge said suspiciously. "So why are you here?"

"Ouch that hurts," he replied clutching his chest in mock pain. "To be called old by someone like you."

"Are you implying something about my age?" Altrouge asked smiling sweetly. A black aura began to manifest around her.

"Ah, um, that is, no I'm not implying anything of the sort young lady," stumbled Zelretch backpedaling quickly holding his hands before him in a placating manor and laughing nervously.

"Good." The aura vanished and Altrouge smiled brightly. "As you can _clearly_ see, I am 15. Now what do you want?"

"1500 more like," Zelretch muttered under his breath. The aura returned full force.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." And once more the aura vanished leaving a traumatized Wizard Marshal.

"Now, imagine my surprise when I returned to this dimension and discovered your actions three years ago," Zelretch started. "Altrouge, do you know what you've done?" Zelretch continued seriously, the earlier playfulness in his demeanor was now gone. "When I returned to the Clock Tower the place was absolute chaos!"

"But..." Altrouge started.

"Not only did you walk right in to the heart of the Mage's Association, the lair of The Queen, you also managed to psychologically damage many magi by your mere presence. One of them even decided then and there to retire early and moved to the Bahamas!"

She tried to speak again, but Zelretch was not finished.

"And then, you walk right in to Lorelei's office, not a care in the world, psych her out with the perfectly reasonable fear of your boredom, have her give you the information you are looking for, make her drop her guard by starting to leave and then turn her into a dead apostle! To top it all off, you made her ancestor number 12, giving her the rank of one she vanquished!"

Altrouge looked down and kicked at the floor. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," she mumbled.

"The poor woman was so shocked that she had suddenly become that which she hated most that she fell into a coma. For a year." Zelretch continued unimpeded. "The Mage's Association doesn't know what to do, their Vice-Director, The Queen of the Clock Tower, Dead Apostle Hunter Extraordinaire, is now a member of the Ancestors. And that is to say nothing of her family. The Barthomeloi as a whole hate dead apostles, and now the best of them is one! They've all been running around in a panic like chickens with their heads cut off!"

Altrouge seemed to shrink in on herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"And then, after all the chaos in the Clock Tower, you had to go do the same in the Wizarding world. You killed no less than 8 heads of Ancient and Noble houses along with their spouses and occasionally children as well over the course of three months. When the authorities arrived they found nothing but desiccated corpses and a note from you claiming responsibility. Two lines were completely destroyed by your actions and the new head of House Malfoy, young Lucius Malfoy has attempted organize a hunt in revenge for your destruction of the rest of his family. Of course, they are all far too scared of you to do anything of the sort."

Altrouge wanted to find a hole in the ground and die. Never in her 1500 years of life had she been chastised this severely before. "But they were all working for Voldy-Dort" she said weakly (A/N "dort" means "cake" in Czech).

"And then," said Zelretch oblivious of her attempt to speak, towering over her. "And then I found that you kidnapped the kid who put an end to Lord Snake Face's terrorization of Wizarding Britain. And you did it right under their noses and are now raising him yourself. The best part is that they haven't even realized that he's gone yet! The Savior of the Wizarding World, The-Boy-Who-Lived, raised by a vampire. By you no less, The Slayer of Nobles. Can you imagine how much chaos will occur once they finally realize he's gone? Can you imagine how much worse it will be when they discover that he's been raised by their worst nightmare, you?"

Altrouge was about to cry. Dead apostles did not cry, especially ones as ancient and feared as her. 'It wasn't wrong for me to take Harry in and raise him, was it?' she thought. 'That McGonagall woman was right; he never would have had a happy childhood in that house.' She had become quite attached to her little bundle of energy.

Eyes watering, she looked up at Zelretch a forlorn expression on her face. He had finally finished his rant. A tear came out of his eye and he wiped it away surprising Altrouge. Why was he crying? Did she cause so much trouble for him? What was going on?

A minute later Zelretch spoke shattering the silence with his words, "I have never been so proud in my life as I was when I heard what you had done."

"Wha...?"

"You pulled off not one, but TWO ultimate pranks while I was away. You caused Lorelei great mental trauma and your actions are forcing the uptight woman to reconsider her beliefs and caused maximum chaos in the Association. A masterful strike. Then you not only wiped out some of the worst bigots in the Wizarding World but also stole their Savior. The coming storm of chaos when they discover that will blow the chaos caused by your assassinations out of the water!"

Zelretch was crying in earnest now, a large grin plastered on his face. He suddenly pulled Altrouge into a hug and began sobbing into her shoulder. She didn't know what to do. She had never been in this type of situation before.

Zelretch continued, speaking into her shoulder between sobs. "Finally after all these years my efforts have paid off. You have finally learned the sacred arts of pranking and the ways of chaos, I couldn't have done a better job myself. I was afraid this day would never come."

Altrouge tentatively put her arms around him and patted his back. She really should have seen this coming. She had known the man for centuries and he had attempted to corrupt her with his pranks on every one of his sporadic visits.

A few minutes later Zelretch stood up, took out a handkerchief, and blew his nose.

"Now then, where is young Harry at the moment? I came to see how he was doing living with you. You haven't turned him have you?"

"No, he's much too young to be turned. I might turn him when he's older if he is interested. As for where he is, I believe he's about halfway up that mountain with Primate Murder."

Zelretch paled. "You left a young child with that beast?"

"They actually get along quite well. He rides around the mountains on top of his 'big doggy' terrorizing the local wildlife daily."

Suddenly Zelretch burst out laughing. "The Primate Murder. Being ridden by a four-year-old like a horse. The terrifying Beast of Gaia that can instantly slaughter thousands of humans with but a thought. Tamed by a child barely out of his diapers. It's too much."

He collapsed on the porch holding his stomach. After a few minutes Zelretch composed himself and began to rise only to begin laughing once more.

Altrouge smiled and shook her head and walked back into the house. Zelretch could be incredibly childish at times, despite being among the strongest beings on the planet. The Zelretch who had defeated and sealed Type-Moon away. The Zelretch who was master of the second True Magic, the Kaleidoscope. _That_ Zelretch was rolling around on the front porch laughing hysterically because of something she did.

A few minutes later he had composed himself once more and Altrouge exited the house carrying a glass of cold water and handed it to him.

"Thanks," he said taking it. "So do you know when Harry will return, I really do need to see him."

"He should be back for lunch in about an hour. On that note, I should start cooking." Altrouge began to reenter the house, but stopped. "What's with that incredulous look? I can cook you know, better than you at least. I'll bet there isn't a single person who cooks worse than you! How did you manage to burn water last time anyway?"

* * *

 _Meanwhile in Northern Germany_

One Kiritsugu Emiya cursed as the pot began to smoke. Why was making pasta so hard?

* * *

 _Back in Switzerland_

Zelretch mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"I said, I grew impatient waiting for the water to boil and decided to use my Jewled Sword to speed up the process. Wizards do that sort of thing all the time. It wasn't my fault that it caught on fire."

Altrouge sighed, face in her hands. Zelretch was not only childish but also lacked common sense. "Regardless of the cause," she said, "you will not be touching my kitchen ever again."

The Wizard Marshal looked mutinous. "But there is this great recipe I discovered on Celaeno..."

"No. No experimenting with foods from Cthulhu's dimension. I don't want an eldritch abomination to accidentally be summoned in my kitchen and then wipe out life on Earth. The last time you tried to do so, you nearly summoned another Type-Mercury. One of those monsters is more than enough thank-you-very-much."

At this, Zelretch visibly wilted. "Can I at least bring a friend for lunch? You know what they say, the more the merrier!"

Releasing a deep sigh, Altrouge relented, "I suppose you can as long as it's not an eldritch abomination or extra-dimensional being. Now stop looking at me like that already! You look like a beaten puppy."

He immediately recovered and opened a portal next to him. A moment later a person tumbled out and landed face-first on the porch. Altrouge stiffened. Despite not having seen her for over 600 years, she knew who it was. Zelretch had just summoned Arcueid Brunestud, the last of the True Ancestors, to lunch.

 **-End of chapter 3-**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

If any of you are wondering about Harry's behavior (him giving his own blood to Altrouge), remember that he is not exactly being raised in a normal home. As a young impressionable child who wishes to please his mother figure he will do whatever he can to be a "big boy" and be helpful. Even if that includes using pointy objects to fill a cup with his blood. Fortunately, doing so does not appear to have any negative effects and young Harry has quickly built up an impressive pain tolerance so it doesn't bother him any. Altrouge, as she is not human, has done nothing to curb his giving blood because it seems to have no adverse effects on Harry and because his blood is super tasty (to her). She was a bit concerned when he first did it because losing that much blood could seriously injure a small child. However, as there were no negative consequences, she is unconcerned by his behavior.


	4. The White Princess

**Chapter 4: The White Princess**

Arcueid Brunestud. The White Princess of the True Ancestors. The last of the True Ancestors, and the strongest one to ever live. She appeared to be a young woman about 20 years old and was 5'6. Her body was well developed and she had an almost perfect hour-glass figure. Her face was beautiful with large crimson eyes and short blonde hair. Arcueid could easily pass for a model if she wanted to, but as she was unaware of what models even were, it would be quite a challenge. Her usual attire consisted of a long-sleeved white shirt, a dark blue skirt, high leather boots, black leggings, and a silver pendant. She had also never truly lived, never had a childhood, never had a friend or enjoyed herself. She had never been allowed to.

The True Ancestors were flawed from the start. An unfortunate and unexpected side effect of being modeled after the vampiric Type-Moon was that they retained his vampiric impulses. Although they had no need for blood, they constantly thirsted for it and had to turn a portion of their power upon their vampirism to maintain sanity. However, as a True Ancestor aged their vampiric impulse grew. Eventually, after a millennium had past, it became so great that they were unable to resist their vampirism and became Demon Lords, beings of immense power and no restraint.

At first the True Ancestors, being flawed servants of Gaia, the will of the planet, and Type-Moon, decided to create their own servants through granting power to humans- the Dead Apostles. The apostles were even more flawed than the ancestors and were unable to function without blood making them as dangerous as Demon Lords, especially once they had escaped their servitude.

And so the True Ancestors, faced with rampaging Demon Lords and mighty Dead Apostles, decided to create the strongest true ancestor to use as executioner against their enemies. And so, Arcueid Brunestud the White Princess of the True Ancestors was born in the 12th century. She was raised in the Millennium Castle Brunestud, the ancestral home of the True Ancestors, ignorant of the outside world. Her only purpose was to be a weapon, a tool, an executioner.

It was a cold environment, one where she was taught only that which was necessary to hunt her targets. The first time she saw a smile was when Zelretch attended her coming of age ceremony. Arcueid had no childhood, no friends, no family, nothing but her targets and ability to destroy them. The other True Ancestors even kept her ignorant of her own vampiric nature as her bloodlust had not manifested. This led to their downfall.

Sometime later, when she was a young adult, a priest named Michael Roa Valdamjong arrived seeking perfect immortality. He easily tricked the ignorant Arcueid into drinking his blood, triggering her vampiric impulses. The majority of the True Ancestors were slain that day during her rampage while Roa achieved his original goal, stealing 30% of her power, and becoming a Dead Apostle. After regaining her sanity, Arcueid locked herself away in the castle to prevent future rampages and fell into a slumber only awakening to do her duty as an executioner as well as hunt the one responsible: Roa. The few remaining True Ancestors were hunted down by their former servants until only the strongest was left. Arcueid eventually succeeded in killing Roa, but he had mastered reincarnation and soon returned. At present, in 1984, Roa had just reincarnated for the 17th time, though Arcueid would not learn of this for many years.

Arcueid Brunestud opened her eyes surprised to see herself staring at what appeared to be wood. She was certain that she had gone to sleep chained to the throne as always, and it was not yet time for her to pursue Roa as she had defeated his 16th incarnation only 10 years ago. What was going on?

She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position and looked around blankly. In front of her was Altrouge Brunestud who appeared to be shocked. There were chairs and a table nearby, an overhanging roof, a few stairs down to a vast meadow overlooking craggy mountains... Altrouge?! An enemy. Enemy? Enemy. ENEMY. **ENEMY!** End her. Kill. Atta-

Zelretch placed his hand firmly on Arcueid's shoulder causing her to turn and notice him. The tension instantly drained from her body, her hard expression being replaced with confusion.

She looked around once more, taking in her surroundings more carefully. Altrouge was indeed standing before her, the earlier shock replaced by an impassive mask, she had taken a guarded position. There was a book on the table near her, obviously recently read. Looking in through the large glass windows beside her was a well-furnished room with several filled bookcases along the back wall. The house was very secluded, and it obviously did not belong to Zelretch as he travelled constantly when bored of driving magi insane. She was at Altrouge's house?

"Calm down princess, I brought you here for lunch, not battle."

Her confusion instantly became disbelief. Lunch? He had woken her from her self-imposed imprisonment for lunch?! If she wasn't careful she could lose control of her bloodlust and destroy much of the world with her powers, she kept herself locked away for that very reason and he frivolously used his powers to bring her here for LUNCH?

"Why?" Arcueid asked in a whisper. A whisper that held an edge capable of cutting steel. Zelretch did not notice.

"You are always cooped up in that stuffy old castle, and when you are out and about it is only so you can kill Roa's latest incarnation. That's just so dull! So I brought you here for lunch."

"You woke me up, for lunch?"

"For lunch with Altrouge, yes."

Arcueid looked down at the floor, her bangs overshadowing her eyes. Her hair began blowing gently upwards, but there was no breeze. She began to chuckle ominously.

"You have 3 seconds, start running old man," she said.

"Huh?" was Zelretch's intelligent reply.

"Three." Arcueid looked back up at Zelretch, her eyes hard.

He paled and lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "Now don't be hasty Arc..."

"Two." The wind gathering around Arcueid was becoming more violent.

"Just calm down a minute," Zelretch said slowly backing away.

"One." A crimson aura seemed to bleed out of Arcueid's body; an immense bloodlust filled the air. Altrouge backed up a few steps not wanting to get caught in Zelretch's education.

At that Zelretch turned and fled down the mountain, moving so fast afterimages were created.

"Zero."

Zelretch did not move nearly fast enough. He only made it half way to the forest before he was caught. Altrouge sat back down in her seat and watched the show with amusement while Zelretch's high-pitched screams drifted up the meadow from where Arcueid was "educating" him.

Fifteen minutes later Arcueid returned dragging the quivering pile that was once known as Zelretch along behind her, a serene smile on her face.

"Beating Zelretch into a pulp is wonderfully therapeutic, is it not?" Stated Altrouge once Arcueid was near.

The White Princess laughed lightly before tossing the unfortunate Wizard Marshal under the hammock.

"I do believe I am ready for lunch now, educating idiots is hungry business."

"Would you like to help me prepare it?"

Arcueid opened her mouth, about to reply, then closed it with a frown. After a few seconds of silence she spoke "I'd love to, but I've never cooked anything before."

"Well there is a first time for everything, and pasta is quite simple. Come with me." And with that, Altrouge turned walked into the house.

* * *

 _30 minutes later_

"Arcueid."

"Yes?"

"Why is the pasta moving?"

"Is it not supposed to?"

Altrouge sighed. The True Ancestors really had not done Arcueid any favors in raising her the way they did. She knew absolutely nothing.

"I'll take care of it, why don't you go set the table instead."

"Ok! How do I do that?"

*THUD* *THUD* *THUD*

Arcueid watched Altrouge repeatedly slam her head on the counter in exasperation wondering if that was also part of making lunch. She really was an odd person.

Altrouge sat down on the couch exhausted. Defeating the Pasta Abomination and then making lunch with Arcueid's "help" was quite taxing. Who knew someone other than Zelretch could be so bad at cooking? It was practically an art form! To cause food to gain sentience and then wage war against its natural enemy- the kitchen- required immense magical abilities bordering on True Magic! And to do so unconsciously...

Altrouge sighed and rubbed her temples, a headache was rapidly building and threatened to become a migraine if this kept up. At least the beast was slain and had become a surprisingly high-quality meal once dead. It had to be her origin, there was no other explanation. At least Zelretch had the Cthulu excuse when this happened, not that that was much better.

She groaned and fell face-first into the couch and remained there unmoving for a few minutes until she heard the very much recovered Zelretch chuckling at her plight. Altrouge threw a pillow at him, nailing him in the face and knocking him over. Her task complete, she returned to lying on the couch, ignorant of what took place around her until a small bundle of endless energy and joy attacked.

"Uncle Zelly said it's time for lunch," the tiny terror said, bouncing on her back.

She did not move; she did not want to move. Maybe if she ignored it, it would go away. There was some whispering above her, but she paid it no heed.

"GET UP!" The bouncing boy yelled into her ear.

Altrouge jumped up with a wince, knocking him backward on to the couch. Zelretch was standing a few feet away with a smug grin on his face. She nailed him with another pillow, this one aimed below his belt with a subtle use of alteration to make it hard as a rock. Zelretch instantly collapsed in agony, his eyes bulging comically, before curling up on the floor in fetal position.

"Uncle Zelly so funny!" Harry stated giggling at the idiot's fate.

"Have you washed up yet?"

"Uh-huh."

"Let me see your hands."

Harry quickly hid them behind his back attempting to look innocent. He began backing away while his guardian looked at him sternly, before suddenly making a break for it. Altrouge easily caught him, scooping up the once more giggling boy and carried him into the kitchen to wash his hands.

"Did you have fun this morning Harry?" She asked as she carried him.

"Uh-huh! Big Doggy went all over the mountain! We even saw a horsey, but it had this weird horn thing."

"You saw a unicorn? I didn't realize there were any in the area. Now come on, to the table you go."

Arcueid and Zelretch, who looked as if he hadn't just been hit between the legs by a hard object, were sitting at the table waiting. There was a large salad and pasta covered in Alfredo sauce with bacon and parmesan crumbled on top. Altrouge thought she saw it twitch but passed it off as merely being her imagination, the pasta monster had been slain after all. She sat down at the table, but Harry had stopped and was looking carefully at their guests. Suddenly he ran back into the kitchen shouting "we forgot their drinks!"

He returned a few minutes later with a pair of glasses filled with a crimson liquid, a look of concentration on his face as he carefully brought them over, placing one in front of Zelretch and the other in front of Arcueid.

Arcueid looked at the glass carefully, before jumping back in realization. The kid had just brought her a glass filled with blood. She began pushing it away, but was stopped by Altrouge.

"It's safe for you to drink, in fact it may help with your problem. There seems to be something special in his blood, probably because of his element or origin. It is quite beneficial to our kind, you should be no exception."

So, Arcueid cautiously took a small sip, and then stopped in shock. Unlike the first time she had had blood, it did not activate her bloodlust. In fact, it appeared to reduce it. She took a larger sip, she hadn't imagined it. Her bloodlust was slightly reduced. If this wasn't a fluke and the effect remained it would be a miracle. She already had to use 70% of her available power to keep it in check. Even with such a large portion of her power locked away, as she was only able to use about 20% of her original strength, Arcueid was equal in strength to most of the Ancestors. If she no longer had to deal with her bloodlust, defeating Roa when he next reared his ugly head would be easy!

"Now, I do not believe the two of you have been introduced yet," said Altrouge breaking into her thoughts.

"I'm Hawwy! I'm four!" Exclaimed the child while holding up three fingers.

"And I'm Arcueid Brunestud. Nice to meet you young man."

"Awcud... Arcid... Arced... Arc! Nice to meet you Arc!" Said Harry excitedly. He then thought for a minute, his face scrunched up as he did so. "Bruns... bwunstod... uh... are you related to Alt?"

"In a sense we are."

"They are sisters!" Zelretch interjected before Altrouge could finish. She glared at him.

"Sistows? I thought Alt was my big sistow... that means that Arc is also my big sistow!" He said with a smile, pleased that he had figured it out.

Zelretch began to laugh again, but quickly turned it into a cough when he saw Altrouge's angry glare. "Now then," he said. "Why don't we eat our lunch before it becomes cold and we can keep talking later."

After lunch was finished and the table cleared, they retreated into the living room to talk.

"Now, let us get down to business." Zelretch said seriously. "My reason for visiting today is to see Harry."

"What for?" Asked Altrouge defensively.

"To see his potential for magecraft."

This caught Altrouge off guard. She had believed that because Harry was from a Wizarding family, he would be unable to use magecraft. Occasionally someone would be able to use both, but that had been more common in the past and she usually did not pay much attention to the denizens wizarding world.

"The Potters are a family of Wizards able to use Magecraft," Zelretch continued. "Due to complicated reasons that boil down to politics, there are several families like this. They were thrown out of the Mage's Association over a millennium ago but remain capable of magecraft."

"Very well, what do you need to do?"

"I need to set up a formalcraft circle, which will take a few minutes, and use it to analyze his circuits. Don't worry, the process is painless."

And with that Zelretch pulled out a piece of chalk and began drawing a complex magical circle on the living room floor. A few minutes later he checked the completed circle over, and stood up pleased.

"You had better clean that up once you are done."

Zelretch waved off her concerns, picked up young Harry and placed him in the center of the circle.

"Now just lie there for a few minutes, as still as you can. It may feel a bit odd, but it won't last long."

And with that, Zelretch began to channel prana into the circle activating it, causing the symbols to glow. A few minutes passed and the spell was complete.

"Well," Zelretch started, "I must say that I am surprised. Young Harry has very high potential, even for a Potter. Unfortunately, he does not have a magic crest. It may have been lost during the chaos Ol' Tommy created if not earlier."

"Why don't you take Harry for a while Arcueid," he said turning to her, "I need to discuss this with Altrouge. There are some interesting caves farther up the mountain."

* * *

The caves were a series of dark openings and passages leading into the mountain at the base of the cliff above the house. Harry had never been allowed to explore them, much to his displeasure. Primate Murder was simply too large to enter the caves. But now he finally had the chance to explore! He was positively vibrating with excitement as he and Arcueid approached the cliff. His excitement was contagious, and Arcueid soon found herself just as excited about the coming adventure as little Harry.

After what felt like ages for the duo, but was no more than a few minutes, they reached the caves. The black maw of the mountain stood before them, daylight only penetrating a few feet into the inky darkness. They entered and were swallowed, unable to see once they were within the twisted passages.

Arcueid created a ball of light that floated above them to illuminate their surroundings. The passage was rough and appeared to be crudely hewn from the rock. Or perhaps some great tunneling worm had gorged itself on the stone of the mountain, and after its passage left behind countless twisting tunnels. The tunnels themselves were roughly spherical in shape, about 10 feet in diameter, but with a fairly level rocky floor. They were clearly not natural, as those caves tended to be formed by water or great shifts in the earth, and were filled with stalactites and stalagmites which appeared almost to be great teeth. These were absent in this passage.

The duo moved forward into along the passage as it twisted and turned, seemingly at random. For a while it appeared to be corkscrewing its way down until it reached a fairly large chamber. Arcueid's orb of light did not illuminate the entire cavern and small hunched shapes could be seen scurrying about. After a minute she was able to identify them.

"Erklings. Small elfish creatures that like the taste of children. Nasty little things."

They moved forward into the chamber, ignored by the creatures. The ceiling was high, perhaps 30 feet, and covered in stalactites. A large pool of water could be seen in the center of the chamber, dark and menacing. Many passages wound out of the room, most too small for humans but a few so large that even giants could use them.

Suddenly one of the erklings began cackling madly and rushed them. The rest simply stopped and watched, their long sharp noses pointing at the duo, as if attempting to decide whether to swarm the intruders. When the erkling was close enough, Arcueid stepped forward and kicked, sending it rocketing backwards into one of the smaller passages. The rest of the erklings fled the chamber quickly after that display.

"GOAL!" Yelled Harry running in circles around her.

She smiled, "Arc 1, monsters 0!"

They decided to take one of the larger paths on to left and continued on their adventure. Unlike the last passage, this one was straight as it bored through the rock. Occasional glitters could be seen along the walls where crystals had been unearthed. Half an hour later they found a fork in the path, the one on the left sloped downward and a foul stench wafted from it. 'Trolls' thought Arcueid. So they took the passage on the right. It sloped gently upwards and had numerous side passages emanating from it.

One paths to their left had horrible grinding noises coming from it. A quick look showed a very short tunnel with large, almost 7-foot-tall, bipedal insectoid creatures at the end of it apparently carving out a new passage which gave the reason for the noise.

"Umber hulks, I was right about these tunnels not being natural," Arcueid commented.

Down another path to their right was a large creature with the head of a lion, the body of a giant goat, a pair of scaly wings, and a snake as its tail. Harry immediately ran to it.

"Harry get back here immediately, that's a chimera!"

He did not heed her and quickly reached it, and began petting it. It lay down and he began scratching it behind the ears. A loud rumbling came from the chimera.

"Harry, stop petting it, it's dangerous!"

"But Arc, its puwwing!"

"Chimeras don't purr."

"This one does. Can I keep it? I pwomise I'll take good care of it."

"No!"

"Pwease!"

"No, and that is final. It is too dangerous."

"So is big doggy. Pwetty pwease?"

"Alright alright, just stop making that face already!"

"Yay! I'm going to name you Chimmy (A/N the 'ch' is hard as it is in chimera)." And with that Harry climbed onto his new chimera's back. "Now on to adventuwe!" He said pointing ahead. Chimmy stood up and lumbered forward until it stood next to Arcueid. She gave it an odd look before they continued.

They carried on taking turns at random and became increasingly lost in the maze of tunnels. After one turn in particular about an hour later, they literally bumped into several graphorns. They were large greyish-purple creatures with tough skin, a hump back, and two large golden horns. The graphorns immediately turned and charged forcing the duo (plus chimera) to flee down the winding passages completely losing their sense of direction. They eventually lost the creatures, they were very persistent.

* * *

Sometime later they found themselves in a huge cave with a ceiling a hundred feet high that was covered in luminescent moss. A large dark lake dominated the room and water gently lapped the shore next to them. A small island could be seen far out in the lake. On that island was a misshapen creature, small and hunched with very pale skin. It was apparently staring intently at an object between its fingers, only Arcueid could make it out in the gloom.

The creature was staring at a small, unadorned, golden ring which could have been mistaken for a wedding band. The aura of sheer malevolence exuded by the artifact quickly banished that notion. Soft mutters of "my precious" drifted across the silent waters. The creature was clearly mad, most likely poisoned by the evil ring. They decided to move on quickly, not wanting to draw the ire of the demented thing.

The tunnel out climbed up steeply, and though it twisted and turned, there were no side passages to be seen. After a long while it deposited them in the largest chamber yet. The walls glittered with gems and the ceiling soared up hundreds of feet. There was a hole in the roof which let in light, a waterfall poured through it into a pool which ran out of the chamber to their right. As it turned out, it was the stream that ran under the house and fortunately provided an easy way home.

Along the walls of the room were hundreds of suits of armor, many appearing to be of great age because they were rather scorched and rusty. A large amount of treasure dominated the center of the room, most of it gold. Upon that pile was an enormous dragon, the likes of which had not been seen on earth for centuries: a millennium-rank phantasmal dragon. It was over 100 feet long from head to tail and was covered in large spikes. Its back appeared to be a dark dull purple, and what little they could see of its stomach a pale green. The spikes however, were a deep dark green.

It was sleeping. Not wanting to wake the beast they quietly moved towards the passage home. They had nearly made it when a large green eye opened. They froze in place, hoping to avoid its ire, and then it spoke.

"I've been stuck in this room for centuries you know," the beast said with what might have been a sigh, the conversational tone surprising them. A jet of flame shot out of his nose as he did so, narrowly missing Harry, his mount, and Arcueid.

"What caused that?" Ask Harry.

"When I was a very young dragon, I was enslaved in a land of magical ponies. They were always going on and on about friendship being magic and crap like that while treating me worse than the dirt beneath their hooves. They called me 'Spike', as if I was a pet of some sort." He said with a snort, another great jet of flame striking the wall next to them. "I much prefer the name 'Sophocles'."

"After the Greek playwright?" Arcueid asked.

"That's the one! Now where was I... ah yes. Now, eventually I grew large and strong enough to throw off their mind control and ate most of them. They were delicious and came in so many flavors! Pinkie Pie tasted like cotton candy, Applejack tasted like spiced apple cider, and the best one of all, Twilight, tasted like dark chocolate. Good times, good times. Anyway, after consuming most of the local populace I, rather predictably, fell into a food coma. When I awoke, I was stuck in this dismal place and found I had grown too large to leave while sleeping."

"Where did all the gold come from?"

"Oh that? Plenty of knights and adventurers decided to 'test their luck' against me in the past. My luck prevailed every time. They eventually got the hint so you happen to be my first visitors in centuries. I do hope you can keep me entertained." Sophocles finished ominously.

At that Harry and Arcueid stiffened and readied for a fight.

"To be or not to be, that is the question."

"What?"

"Oh come now you uncultured swine, you know of Sophocles but not Shakespeare's Hamlet? Act 3, Scene 1 you know."

Harry and Arcueid stared at the beast blankly, completely thrown off by this development.

"If you could be so kind as to bring the entire works of Shakespeare next time you visit, I'll let you live. I love theater with a passion, but it has been increasingly hard to come by new plays over the centuries while trapped here. I'd have asked my previous visitors, but they were of the attack first ask questions never type, so I had to eat them. Anyway, now that it's not just me for once," Sophocles said raising himself, "Let us run through Act 1 of Hamlet. I'll make fine actors out of you yet!"

* * *

 _Late that night_

Arcueid stumbled into the living room with Harry sleeping on her back, the chimera padding behind her. It curled up on the floor and went to sleep. Altrouge was sitting in a very comfortable armchair reading her book. She looked up when Arcueid entered the room, then at the chimera, then back to Arcueid.

"Harry decided one deadly pet was not enough," Arcueid said, answering the unasked question. "Did you know that chimeras purr?"

Arcueid carefully laid Harry on one of the couches before collapsing on another. She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "damn confusing dragons and their damn theater. I'll have this headache for a month" before falling silent.

A few minutes later she visibly worked up some energy and turned her head towards Altrouge saying: "Is the geezer still around, I need to return home."

"No, he left a few hours ago. He did leave this message for you though," Altrouge said, closing her book and bringing the letter over.

 _Arcueid,_

 _I see you had a fun time exploring the caves with young Harry. That is good; you need to spend more time in the outside world. With Harry around, you no longer need to worry about losing control of your bloodlust and can remain outside of the castle. Altrouge has a spare bedroom so staying with her will not be a problem. To ensure that you do not return to hiding in your castle, I have used my powers to seal it from you._

 _Zelretch_

 _P.S. I will be out of this dimension for at least the next year_

Arcueid put the letter down, her right eye twitching violently.

"It seems I will have to reeducate the old man upon his return."

 **-End Chapter 4-**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I had originally decided to give Harry a crest, then later decided that that might be overkill. It could have easily been lost with Fleamont Potter or James Potter's deaths to Voldemort or somewhere farther down the line. As the Potters are now simply wizards who do a bit of magecraft on the side, they likely would not be too concerned with keeping and maintaining the crest.

 **Omake:** Arcueid's Housework Adventures, Part 1

After breakfast was finished and Harry had run off with Primy and Chimmy, Altrouge decided it was time to clean the house. It had been getting messy now that three people lived there.

"Arc, why don't you clean the living room while I straighten the kitchen." She said handing her a broom.

A few minutes later Altrouge smelled smoke. Funny, the fireplace was off so why would there be...

She rushed into the living room to find pure chaos. Arcueid was in the corner trying to fend off pixies with her broom. The couches were on fire. The carefully arranged books had been randomly reorganized. How did this happen in less than 5 minutes?

Altrouge groaned. It was best not to think of how it happened and instead simply fix everything. She jumped into the melee.


	5. A History of Magic

**Note to older readers: some changes have been made to this chapter. It is largely the same, but there are a few key points that are now different.**

 **Chapter 5: A History of Magic**

The Barthomeloi were perfection personified. They were perfect magi, inherited perfect magic circuits, and had perfected dead apostle hunting into an art. Perfection was everything to the family and because the family was perfect that name was the only one that mattered to them. Their given names were irrelevant.

The Queen was a perfect example of this perfect family and had a perfect record against the most monstrous of creatures, the dead apostle ancestor. And then she became that which she despised above all else. She, a Barthomeloi, the perfect Queen was perfect no more. She was a Barthomeloi, and yet she was now a dead apostle- an ancestor even! The Barthomeloi were a perfect family and she was their pride and joy, perfection given form! But now she, Lorelei, was an abomination. Lorelei was no longer worthy of using her family's name and her world fell to pieces around her.

She had fully expected her family to appear and remove the stain on their honor- her existence as a dead apostle ancestor. Lorelei fully expected them to do so quickly or face ridicule from the magi of the Clock Tower as they would take malicious delight in the fall of the Association's top family. But they never did. They never contacted her, never even mentioned what had happened. In some ways that was even worse for the formerly perfect Lorelei. Her family did not attempt to execute her or to throw her out or have her removed from her position as vice-director. Instead they acted as if she had never existed, and the magi of the Association followed their example.

After recovering from her year-long coma, Lorelei remained locked in her office for months as the world carried on without her, until she had finally had enough. She had always been told that she was perfect, that she was the greatest the family or the Association had ever seen. And now she did not exist. Had it all been lies? To throw her away without a second thought, not even attempting to regain their honor by fighting her but simply erasing her existence, was that perfection? No! Her family… former family… was not perfect. If it had been they would not have hesitated in attempting to destroy her, and she would have let them do so. But they had not instead insisting she had never been born. They were all liars, and their self-proclaimed perfection was a lie because of it. The illusion shattered and anger began to slowly burn within her.

She, _Lorelei,_ had been perfect and her family would not deny that from her. Lorelei was an apostle now and thus not perfect, but she would fix that in time. As an apostle her original perfection may no longer be attainable, and now she was seeing that it was likely more self-delusion than it had been perfection, but nothing would stop her from striving for perfection anyway.

So what would make an apostle perfect? They were stronger than humans, faster than humans, more magically powerful than humans, and far harder to kill than humans with their limited immortality, but none of that had ever stopped Lorelei before. Dead apostles had several fatal flaws that had to be removed if she was to attain true perfection. Their weakness to sunlight and water, while a huge flaw, was not insurmountable. Powerful apostles could overcome them. The 21st ancestor, Sumire the Water Demon, was a prime example as she lived underwater and could often be found sunbathing on tropical beaches. The bigger problem was the reliance on blood. If Lorelei was to attain perfection she had to find a way to break her reliance on human blood for continued existence.

So that was one question answered, to become a perfect dead apostle she had to overcome her new weaknesses to sunlight and water as well as find a way to eliminate her need for blood. There was one other thing she could do to improve herself as an apostle: increase her ranking among the ancestors. Lorelei had already been given the position of 12th ancestor by Altrouge, and improving that would be ideal. Taking the position of the 1st ancestor was impossible as Primate Murder was Altrouge's pet. Likewise taking the 2nd, 3rd, or 4th positions was also impossible as The Dark Six (#2) was regenerating, Brunestud of the Crimson Moon (#3) had been destroyed by Zelretch (#4) who was an ally, of sorts. The 5th ancestor, ORT, the Ultimate One of Mercury, would be nearly impossible to beat unless she was a magician. A possible target for the distant future, but not a good one at the moment. The 6th ancestor, on the other hand, was affiliated with the insufferable Altrouge who had caused her condition. Six was also half of twelve, so if she killed Rizo-Waal Strout not only would she have her revenge on Altrouge, but she'd also prove herself to be twice as good and no one would be able to deny her perfection.

With that decided it was time to reaffirm her position and reclaim the Clock Tower regardless of what fools stood in her way. Lorelei was an order of magnitude stronger now as a dead apostle than she had been before and would only strengthen with time. The world would look upon her might and despair.

* * *

 _ **August, 1986**_

Lorelei leaned back in her chair with a sigh of relief; the day's paperwork was complete. It had been five years since that fateful day when Altrouge Brunestud visited and she became the twelfth Dead Apostle Ancestor. And today, a beautiful August day in London which she could not enjoy because she was a vampire, she had finished her work early. There were no pressing demands, no petty squabbles between department heads, no fires to put out, no apostles or sealing designates to send squads of enforcers after. Just peace and quiet, almost too good to be true. She leaned back and closed her eyes and was just about to nod off when she felt something.

A distortion appeared in the air a few feet in front of her desk, light appearing to bend and twist around a singularity which suddenly expanded and stabilized into a translucent green portal.

"Zelretch, I knew it was too peaceful to last," she grumbled.

There was a sudden flash and the portal pulsed outwards encompassing the room before suddenly vanishing. Zelretch always was one for theatrics. He'd probably get along well with that rumored "Shakespeare dragon" if he didn't already. Three people stood before her, she knew all three but had never expected to see them together like this. As expected Zelretch stood with a mischievous grin and an unpleasant glint in his eyes. To his right was the one who got her into this mess in the first place, Altrouge Brunestud. And next to Altrouge was the last person she expected to see, as her latest intelligence stated that she was still sleeping in her castle and that she and Altrouge were bitter enemies. Arcueid Brunestud had also arrived, the blond True Ancestor looking around her office curiously. Interestingly Arcueid's hair was waist-length instead of its previous shoulder length. Altrouge must have returned what she had stolen at the conclusion of their legendary battle.

Lorelei reached under her desk, opened a hidden compartment, and removed a bottle of whiskey. Whatever those three were here to talk about was bound to give her a migraine, but perhaps a few glasses of strong alcohol would stave it off.

Lorelei poured herself a glass, downed it, and addressed the source of her distress, "So what brings the three of you here today, surely there is someone else you can bother."

"You are going to take Harry Potter Brunestud on as your apprentice," Zelretch stated, his infuriating grin still plastered onto his face.

"Ok."

"Thanks. We'll be off now then. Ta-Ta." And with that, the three of them made for the door.

Lorelei's brain finally finished processing Zelretch's statement. Apprentice? Harry Potter? Harry Potter Brunestud…? Wait a second, did he just trick her into agreeing to take on Harry Potter as an apprentice?

"Now wait just a minute! I'm not taking an apprentice." She yelled slamming her hands down on her desk.

"You just said yes, are you saying you lied? I thought that was beneath the Barthomeloi," he said turning back to her, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"I never agreed to take on an apprentice. Besides, it sounded like you were stating that I would take him, not asking."

Zelretch's grin returned, even wider than before. "That's right."

"And why would I simply take an apprentice? Especially one that would cause so much friction with the wizards if they were to find out. Also, last time I checked I was your boss, not the other way around!"

"You owe me for sorting things out with your family."

"It's Altrouge's fault that was an issue in the first place! Why are she and Arceuid here anyway, wasn't Arceuid still supposed to be asleep?"

"Blame Zelretch," Altrouge responded. "I am here because I am Harry's guardian. As for Arc, she's been living with us for the last two years. A bit of advice regarding her, never EVER allow her into a kitchen or near a cleaning implement, it will only end in tears."

"Hey!"

"Remember the couch? Or the spaghetti? What about that time you tried to shovel snow, or do the laundry, or clean your room, or sweep the porch, or the Bacon Incident? I can continue if you want."

"Point taken," Arceuid grumbled.

"Getting back on topic, why should I take the kid as my apprentice?"

"Because I cannot teach him properly and Zelretch would probably make him go insane."

"And what makes the great and mighty Altrouge unable to teach a child?"

"I've never been human and we learn magecraft in a very different manner than humans. Using magecraft has always been more of an innate ability than a learned one for me, so to start him down the path and teach him the basics is impossible. Once he's advanced enough I can take over his studies, but not before. Not to mention, he most likely has the element of wind like yourself because he's a Potter."

"I'm still not taking him."

"Very well," Zelretch said with an exaggerated sigh. "You leave me no choice but to give a copy of these to every magus in the Association if you do not agree," he said tossing an envelope to Lorelei.

She picked it up and opened it, it was full of pictures. Very embarrassing pictures, ones which would ruin her reputation and standing in the Association. How did Zelretch even get most of them?

"Ooh, I like that one best," Arceuid said looking over her shoulder pointing at a picture of her as a teen reading _Twilight_ and wearing a t-shirt that said "I heart vampires". A large poster of Edward was on the wall behind her.

"Huh, I had completely forgotten about that. Maybe discovering that reality was so different from the books is what triggered my irrational hatered of the vampiric race."

"That does seem like a reasonable explanation, but why were you reading _Twilight_ in the first place? It's not even a good story. In fact, how did you even get it into your room considering the beliefs of your family?"

"Rebellious phase?"

* * *

 _Meanwhile at the Barthomeloi Estate_

"Sir, we have planted the book in young Cynthia's room as directed."

"Excellent, in a few months once she has been completely captivated by the series we'll take her on her first dead apostle hunt. With a bit of luck, she'll end up hating vampires as much as _that one_ once did."

* * *

 _Back in the Clock Tower_

"Well I don't seem to have any choice in the matter do I?" Lorelei asked.

"Nope!" Zelretch cheerfully responded.

"You also won't stop pestering me until I agree will you?"

"Nope!"

"Fine, I'll train the kid but those photos had better be destroyed, got it!" She ended in a huff, before continuing with a confused expression. "How exactly is he Harry Potter _Brunestud_? I thought that name had special requirements before you were allowed to use it, that's why the two of you are the only ones that have it."

"It does, and I just don't care," Altrouge responded flippantly.

"That's not how it works!"

"Look, I think we can all agree that Crimson Moon was a total jerk. So, I'm just going to ignore the requirements for using the name and give it to him anyway. Besides, I've adopted him. Aren't children supposed to have the same last name as their parent?"

Lorelei found herself unable to respond.

* * *

 _One Week Later_

Harry, now seven, stood in front of the large desk, fidgeting nervously. He had been told, just a week earlier, that he was finally allowed to learn magecraft and that he was to be taught by the best. A few minutes ago, Zelretch had dropped him off in a large and well-furnished office. A strict looking lady sat behind the desk filling out paperwork. She had not yet spoken.

A few minutes later she finished her work and spoke, "You are Harry Potter, correct?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Now have you learned any magecraft yet?"

"No ma'am. They said I was too young."

"Do you know much about magecraft?"

"Not much, they wanted to leave it to you."

Lorelei sighed. Damn those lazy vampires intentionally teaching him nothing to make her own job more difficult. "Do you know anything about the wizards?"

"Only that they use a different sort of magic and do not get along well with magi."

"Very well, so we start from the beginning. Now," said The Queen, "before I actually instruct you in the ways of magecraft, you must learn about how the magical world became the way it is. As you said, magi and wizards do not get along. In fact, they dislike each other so much that they ignore the other's existence creating two completely separate magical worlds.

Originally, in ancient times, this was not the case. There were those able to draw upon mystical energies and cast spells, and there were those who could not. As time went on and the magicals became more advanced it was found that there were two types of practitioners. There were those who drew upon significant stores of internal energy to cast their spells, which were intent based and very versatile, but lacked power. And then there were those who drew most of their energy from the surrounding environment. Their spells were largely limited by their element, though this was not discovered for another few centuries, but were far more powerful. Both types of magic required tremendous effort to learn and were dangerous to use.

Time went on and further distinctions were found between the two. The most important of these was the ability of magus families to accumulate mystical knowledge and power and pass that on to their descendents in the form of magical crests. Wizards, as they are now known, were unable to do so. Now by this time most magicals were capable of using both wizardry and magecraft due to intermarriage between the two groups. Due to the strength and importance of the magical crest, which wizardry was unable to match, magi developed a superiority complex against those who used wizardry. Wizardry would have become completely extinct by the time of the Romans if it were not for the invention of the staff.

A young magus created the first staff as his personal mystic code, or magical artifact, with the goal of increasing the power of his magecraft. It failed. Instead, it made wizardry ten times easier to use and channel while leaving its power intact. This created a revolution of sorts. The new ease of wizardry meant that there was no longer a form of mutual exclusion between the two types of magic, it was now possible to learn both. This, naturally, angered those at the top of magical society. Partially because it threatened the status quo, and partially because they had been the most adamant critics of wizardry and most had already removed its "taint" from their bloodlines. A few decided to use marriage to regain wizardry now that it was useful and were shunned by the others.

Time went on and a new equilibrium was reached. Wizardry, despite the new advances, could not hope to match the power of magecraft. Instead it was relegated to mostly mundane activities due to its enormous breadth of ability. Weaker magus families and those unable to use magecraft at all decided to focus on wizardry as they were unable to compete with the top magi. And so, a type of caste system was formed with families of magi at the top as scholars and warriors, and families of wizards at the bottom, as farmers and tailors. Over time a rift opened between the two groups until they acted as almost entirely separate communities.

This break within the magical world was widened with the invention of the wand. Now staves had slowly been improving over the centuries, but suddenly the Peverell family had a major breakthrough. They created the first wand. It not only made accessing a wizard's internal store of energy easier than a staff, but it also boosted the power of a wizard's spells to some degree, and was very portable. It was a truly historic moment. As an aside, the first wand, which was made of elder wood, thestral hair, and a drop of Type-Moon's blood, was the most powerful wand ever created. It is so powerful that it passed into legend and became a noble phantasm- an enchanted object or weapon that draws a great deal of its power from the legend surrounding it. In this case, the Elder Wand not only became more powerful, but it also gained the property of "never losing a duel" and "being usable at full power only by the one to defeat its last master". I believe that it is currently held by Albus Dumbledore, the so called "leader of the light".

That would have been the end of the story were it not for King Arthur. At the time the wizards were more progressive than their magus brethren and many had moved to the outskirts of the Roman Empire, including England. Now it is well known that a powerful young magus of the prestigious Emrys family, named Merlyn, was responsible for his meteoric rise to power. He, along with several other magus families and most of the wizarding ones, united behind the charismatic young king who challenged the Roman Empire, the seat of magus power. And then the upstart won. Those magi who had sided with him were cast out of the magical world and have remained in the wizarding world ever since. While the actions of King Arthur and Merlyn are now revered by both sides, at the time they drove yet another wedge between the two factions completely separating them into the Wizarding world and the Moonlit world, in an event known as The Great Division.

Now the magical war raged on until Arthur's death, even after he had won and made peace. After his death both sides decided that something had to be done as another war could wipe them all out. So they called upon Lady Altrouge. She was very young then, and respected rather than feared. Altrouge was often called upon in those days to enact and enforce magical pacts and contracts, and this was her greatest work. It was also her downfall.

The Great Division was Altrouge's masterpiece. It, with the assistance of both wizards and magi, created an impenetrable magical divide between the two groups effectively creating two magical worlds. There was no way for wizards and magi, barring those who had sided with King Arthur, to physically interact with one another. In a sense the contract created two parallel dimensions: the moonlit world and the wizarding world, although both shared the same mundane world. Altrouge, being the lynchpin, was the only one who could interact with both worlds, with the exception of Zelretch once he gained mastery over the Kaleidoscope. This division was enforced for 1000 years, ending around 1600.

Now, while there was no physical way for magi and wizards to interact, they maintained full knowledge of each other. This turned out to be very bad as when the medieval witch burnings began both sides blamed the other for starting them and claim that the burnings were used as a tool to indirectly damage the opposite magical world. This made reconciliation impossible once the divide finally did come down. The burnings also eventually lead to the current laws regarding the secrecy of magic on both sides and a total lack of communication between the two groups. Strangely enough, even magical creatures were divided by Altrouge's actions. The wizarding world has vampires, beings cursed with vampirism and several weaknesses but remain living and are barely stronger than the rest of the wizards, while we have dead apostles who are far more dangerous. Anyway the end result is what you see today. Two completely separate communities that barely even acknowledge one another, though the resentment has finally begun to fade as both sides forget about the other."

"So the magi were envious that wizards were able to do magic so easily and forced them to the edge of society, then a series of events including a war broke the magical world into two and they no longer talk right?"

"Correct. It seems you have been paying attention. Now there is a lot more to it than that, but you do not need to know more for now."

"What did you mean by the divide being Altrouge's downfall?"

"Ah, that. It would probably be better to ask her yourself but the way I interpret it is that the sheer magnitude of her act scared a lot of people so badly that they abandoned her. She was no longer called upon to assist with contracts, rituals, or ceremonies. She was no longer respected and beloved for her gifts. She was shunned, isolated, rejected, and no longer had any she could call 'friend' as they had either perished in the war, or come to fear her. Altrouge was a very young apostle and everything had just been stripped from her. She did not know what to do, so she did what any young child in that situation would do: she threw tantrums."

"Tantrums?"

"Loud and violent calls for attention, which were, in her case, of the dead apostle fashion. Destruction of towns, rampages leaving hundreds or thousands dead, using immense rituals to do unspeakable things etc. It did get her the attention she craved, but it was entirely negative. Wizards and magi quickly learned to fear her name and everything to do with her, forgetting the past in which she walked among them as a friend. Other apostles commended her actions and held her up as a shining example of their kind. And so things continued to spiral downward for her until she created the black plague as a way to drain the life from millions to increase her own power, fought her sister Arcueid, and met Zelretch. Altrouge has been more stable since then and less prone to violence, though her acquisition of Primate Murder throws the second point into doubt. But now that she has family, I think the scars of her youth are finally beginning to heal. Perhaps she will once more become the kind Mistress of Contract instead of continuing on as the bloodthirsty Eclipse Princess of Black Blood.

Anyway, with the history lesson out of the way, it is time to start on magecraft. One thing you should know is that your family was one of the families of magecraft that sided with King Arthur and was thus thrust into the wizarding world. You are capable of both wizardry and magecraft."

"Really!" Harry said, quivering in excitement.

"Yes. In fact, you should have a large amount of magical knowledge stored somewhere, most likely in a vault, to assist with your later studies. Unfortunately, the location of your family crest is unknown, it may be locked away as well or it may have been lost over the centuries or even destroyed."

"If my family knowledge is locked away, then what can I learn?"

Lorelei chuckled at his enthusiasm. "There is plenty that you can learn, but it mostly depends on your element and origin, those they shouldn't have too much effect on what types of wizardry you can learn. There are a number of different types of magecraft that are not aligned to a specific element, such as formalcraft, and can enable the use of elemental mysteries outside of your proficiencies. But first we need to know your element. Now come, let us move to my workshop so I can begin preparing to test your capabilities."

A few minutes later Harry was looking around him in awe at Lorelei's workshop. There were bookshelves filled with magical texts, shelves above counters and tables covered in magical artifacts of unknown use and numerous contraptions bubbled away making the place appear similar to a chemistry lab. The white lab coats and goggles only contributed to this image. The room was quite large and the center of the room was clear of objects and had several ornate magic circles on the floor. Lorelei approached one and snapped her fingers causing it to vanish in a flash.

"It will take a while to create a magic circle to test your element and origin, especially to account for the possibility of them being non-standard. Sit on that chair over there while I work."

Harry dutifully went and sat on the chair she indicated, watching in fascination as a complex magic circle took shape.

"What I am doing right now is known as formalcraft, the use of magecraft through magic circles. If skilled enough you can perform almost any magecraft through use of formalcraft, though it tends to be rather slow. I believe that Altrouge is a master of this craft. Do you know what the five primary elements are?"

Harry shook his head.

"Very well, we'll start with that. The five elements are as follows: fire, wind, earth, water, and the fifth imaginary element ether. Most families focus on a single element and tend to be aligned to that element. My family, for example, are masters of wind magecraft. Some magi are able to use multiple elements, and rarely all five. Those capable of using all the elements are known as "average ones" and there are almost always less than three living at any given time. There are also sub-elements, such as lightning being the sub-element of wind, or completely different unusual elements. I do believe that one magus had the element of "flesh" and had to be hunted down as he used his command of flesh to twist creatures into monstrosities. There have also been known users of the "light" or "dark" or "shadow" elements, though they are rare. More common are people who can use two elements and combine them to create a compound element such as the Archibalds who combine water and wind for "liquid manipulation".

As for a person's origin, it is quite literally who you are and provides much greater detail about the type of magus a person is. These are quite diverse and, on occasion, someone with dual-origins is born. They are even rarer than Average Ones. Even more rare than the dual-origin a magus whose element and origin are aligned. This is so rare that it does not have a proper name, although some have taken to calling them 'incarnations'. This alignment makes the magus uniquely capable of using that element to the exclusion of all others. An incarnation of fire is, for all intents and purposes, fire. They will be very passionate and quick to anger as well as able to use fire-based magecraft at a level the rest of us can only dream about. At the moment, there are no known living incarnations."

A few more minutes passed before Lorelei finished the circle and had Harry lay down in the middle. She activated the circle and it glowed a soft red color which slowly increased in intensity to a burning crimson. Then, it was gone.

Lorelei stood to the side the whole time writing rapidly in a notebook as the circle worked. After it was finished she looked over the results, eyes widening comically as she read the conclusion. "Oh my, this is going to be fun." She said to herself, "to think that my apprentice would provide me with this opportunity..." And with that, The Stoic Queen, Strictest and Most Noble of All Magi, began giggling like a schoolgirl. It quickly transformed into maniacal laughter, and Harry retreated under a desk on the far side of the room.

Fifteen minutes later Lorelei calmed herself, realizing her error in breaking her carefully crafted mask. "You will never speak of this to anyone," she commanded Harry, who nodded instantly. Who knew what the rest of the magi would do if her breakdown ever got out. She never noticed the active video camera Zelretch had left there earlier that day, which suddenly vanished from the room.

"Sorry about that but I couldn't help it, every magus has a Mad Scientist side and learning your alignment activated mine."

Harry remained on the other side of the room, close to the door.

"Now your test results are very interesting. First, I will inform you of what Zelretch found when he tested you a few years ago. He performed a separate test, one to test your ability in magecraft. Unlike with wizards, whose magical cores grow as they age, a magus' potential ability is set at birth with their magic circuits. Now magic circuits are what we use to channel our magical energies to actualize our mysteries." At Harry's blank look she clarified, "to cast our spells."

Seeing the realization spread across his face really was amusing. "Now, magic circuits are part of our soul, but are also present in magic crests, but I'll get to that later. The number and quality of a person's circuits determines how much magecraft they can perform by setting a maximum limit to how much energy they can channel, which if surpassed can cause permanent injury or even death."

"You have 42 circuits. This is a tremendous amount, A-rank by our ranking system. The average magus has only 20, which is considered C-rank. Ranks are not that important, just a way of classifying power. Similar to grades at school, higher is better. Unfortunately, the ranking system is rather confusing as it is different for almost everything it is used for. The only real similarity is that C-rank tends to mean average.

Now, as stated there are two important parts to determining magical strength. The number of circuits and the quality of the circuits, or how much energy each one can channel. The average, C-rank, is 20 units of prana. Don't worry, I'll explain what prana is later. Now you are able to channel an astounding 50 units of prana, which is A+ rank quality making you capable of channeling up to 2100 units at once which is more than five times greater than the average magus."

"What about you?"

"Myself? I was born with blue-blood circuits, which is my family's pride and joy. They are EX ranked quality, which means that their quality is so great they cannot be properly quantified as they are a category of their own. Somehow, upon becoming a dead apostle, they gained even more quality and almost doubled in number. It is practically impossible for me to channel their full capacity."

"Woah! When Alt said I was going to have the best magus for my teacher she wasn't kidding!" Harry exclaimed in awe.

Lorelei grinned, she was beginning to like the kid. "Now, as I said you can channel 2100 units. This does not mean that you can use spell after spell each using 2100 units, but that that is the maximum amount you can use through continuous casting without rest. A good night's sleep will reset that amount, and even a few hours of downtime between major spell casting will reduce it and allow you to channel more than 2100 in a day. Either way, 2100 is a truly enormous amount and you are unlikely to ever need to use all of it at once, so you can consider yourself lucky. It seems the Potters have been quite diligent over the years in continuing their magecraft even though their crest is now missing."

"So what was it about my element and origin that cause you to go mad scientist on me?"

"Ah, that. You, my friend, not only have an unusual and possibly unique element for a human, but also happen to have an origin so unusual that my tests cannot determine what it is. There is so much we can learn together!" And with that Lorelei began laughing again, the camera mysteriously reappearing in a dark corner once more.

Harry waited patiently for her to stop. He figured this would happen fairly often if he really was an incarnation and they were as rare as Lorelei said they were. Once she had he asked, "What do you mean by 'possibly unique for a human', and what is it?"

Lorelei, having finally calmed down once more was embarrassed that she had lost control like that again. Harry had to ask his question twice more before she heard him.

"The reason for that, is that I do not know of any other human with your specific element but do know of many dead apostles which have it, Altrouge being the most prominent which will make things easier. As for what it is, you, young Harry, have the dual elements of blood and wind."

 **-End Chapter 5-**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Blame Zelretch for weird quirks in the timeline, like Twilight being published in the 60's. And yes, Lorelei is going to fight stronger ancestors to raise her rank eventually, perhaps even ORT if she can become a magician.

Some of you are going to have questions about my explanation of Altrouge's past in this chapter, specifically why it is different than in chapter 2. The reason: this is Lorelei's interpretation of her actions while Chapter 2 was how the magical world at large sees them. Her occasional rampages now might be fueled by boredom, but Lorelei's explanation about her behavior in the distant past is probably close to the truth, not that Altrouge will ever admit it.

This chapter had a quite a bit of exposition. Chapter 6 is the same. These are primarily world-building chapters- explaining why the magical world ended up divided and how magic works in this AU. Chapter 7 will be introducing a few beloved Fate characters and should be quite fun while the newest chapter (as of March 26, 2018) is chapter 8 which expands on that.

About Harry's element and origin: I originally had him be an incarnation of blood, but have since changed my mind. He originally (before Voldemort) had the single element of wind but gained a second element of blood for several reasons:

1) His mother's blood protection spell

2) Being hit by a killing curse, having the blood protection spell reflect it, being a horcrux

3) The blood wards (or whatever the protection was) at his blood relative's house

4) Voldemort (in canon) used his blood to revive himself

5) The whole blood purity thing that Wizards are obsessed with

6) The "power he knows not"

7) He was raised by Altrouge

8) It's awesome

While those are some traumatic events, it's not enough to erase his original element or align his origin to blood like what happened to Shirou after the fire + Avalon messing things up. As for why I gave Harry the element of blood, it's because blood-bending is awesome! There will be more on what that means next chapter.

* * *

 **Omake:** Arcueid's Housework Adventures Part 2

It was Christmas morning and Arcueid was very excited, it was her first Christmas outside of the castle. The ground was covered in a layer of snow and more flakes drifted down from the heavens. Altrouge and Harry remained asleep on this glorious morning so Arc decided to head outside to make some snowmen as she waited.

Several hours later, Altrouge's rest was interrupted by what sounded like explosions. She looked at the clock, it was barely 7 in the morning and she would have gone back to sleep had Arcueid not crashed into her room, through the window, covered from head to toe with snow.

"Altrouge help! We are under attack by deranged mutant killer monster snow goons! I can't hold them off much longer; they are rapidly multiplying and heading for town!"

"What did you do?"

"Made a snowman."

"And how did it turn into something from Calvin and Hobbes?"

"It ate a Baconator."

"Don't tell me you tried to cook breakfast as well…"

The look on Arcueid's face said it all. "Fine, I'll go clean it up. Just go back to bed or something." This was going to be a long day.


	6. Magecraft

**Note to older readers: some changes have been made to this chapter, mostly in regards to Harry's element/origin at the start of this chapter.**

 **A/N: For those of you wondering about the timeline, my current plan is to follow Harry Potter canon (with increasingly large deviations over time) until the summer after 5** **th** **year which is when Tsukihime should occur. Fate/Stay Night will take place during his 7** **th** **year and finish the story off, assuming I manage to make it there. Harry Potter canon starts in chapter 10 and I hope to have year 1 done around chapter 22. Now, on to the story:**

 **Chapter 6: Magecraft**

 _Lorelei's workshop_

"I have the element of blood?" Harry asked in wonder. "That's bad, right?"

"No, you have the dual-elements of blood and wind. I would say that's a very good thing. Having multiple elements is very good for magi, even if one of them is rather… unnatural."

"Why isn't having blood as one of my elements bad? It makes it sound like I'm going to be a super villain or something!" And with that, Harry stood up on the chair he had been sitting on and spread his arms before him, "This week Batman must once more foil the dastardly plots of Potter the Bloody and stop Gotham from descending into chaos!"

"Well I suppose you could interpret it that way," Lorelei said, trying and failing to hide her smile at Harry's antics. "But in the end, it is your decision that determines what you become."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. For example, many doctors have the origin of 'blood'. It gave them the desire to heal the sick and injured. Some were even named Blood because of their profession in the middle ages. You do not have this origin, I think, but it makes my point- blood does not mean evil. As for the element of blood, which you have, that is less common. It is found occasionally among dead apostles, but almost never among humans, and although most dead apostles have rather nasty temperaments, there are a… a couple that aren't actually… evil and deserving of a most painful death," Lorelei finished with a wince.

If he did not know better, Harry would have said that simply admitting that not every apostle was a force of ultimate evil caused his teacher physical pain. Obviously, he was wrong and simply imagining it, and so it was ignored in favor of one of Lorelei's earlier statements.

"But you said that it was unnatural!"

"And it certainly is. I can guarantee that you were not born with the element of blood and some traumatic event in your childhood caused your alignment to change."

"What sort of event?"

"That is actually a very easy question to answer, it was the event in which you received that scar," Lorelei replied moving close to look at it, "which despite being almost 5 years old appears to be no more than a month in age? That can't be right. A scar that old should be white and faded, not a bright pink like this one!"

Turning to him with a serious expression she said, "Come with me, we need to visit someone with more appropriate abilities for this." And with that, Lorelei strode out the door looking troubled.

* * *

The walk was not particularly long, but Harry quickly became lost in the maze of passages that he was led through. Soon they came to a large set of doors with a plaque next to it which read "Department of Spiritual Invocation".

Lorelei entered without hesitation, bringing Harry into a very large room full of magi. The opposite wall was lined with books that reached the ceiling far above. Many tables covered in books and papers were scattered throughout the room and a number of circles of various functions could be found on the floor. Numerous doors led into the chamber and magi were constantly entering and exiting the room. They were all dressed formally in a style that wouldn't have been out of place while Victoria was still Queen of England.

While Harry examined the room in awe, the Vice Director took a single look around the room, located her target, and directed Harry straight to him. He was a tall elderly man, dressed entirely in black, with long straight silver hair and was talking to two other magi. When Lorelei reached him, the others took their leave.

"Vice Director, what can the Spiritual Invocation Department do for you today?" The man said in a smooth, cultured voice.

"I am in need of your expertise. This child, has a scar which concerns me. I need you to check it for any anomalies and, if found, remove them."

Turning to Harry, Lorelei noticed his confusion, shook her head slightly, then spoke saying, "Harry, this is Samuel Raeburn, head of the department of spiritual invocation. He needs to perform a few tests on your scar, ok?"

Harry nodded, and went back to examining the room while Raeburn took a closer look, poking and prodding his forehead while occasionally muttering unintelligibly under his breath. A short time later he released Harry and stood up calling out to a pair of magi across the room.

The two summoned magi quickly arrived.

"We are performing a full scan of the boy's scar with the goal of finding and removing malignant magical residue. Prepare the room, we will be along shortly."

"Now, what exactly is it that concerns you about the scar?" He continued, turning to Lorelei.

"This scar is almost 5 years old, but, as you can see, it looks no more than a month in age."

"I see, and what caused this scar?"

"That wizard who called himself a dark lord attempted to murder Harry when he was only 15 months old. He failed and ended up having his curse rebound and destroy him, leaving the scar."

"And the reason the curse failed?"

"Unsure. The wizards believe it has to do with the willing sacrifice of his mother immediately prior. They think the curse was somehow deflected by 'the power of love' or some such nonsense," Lorelei responded with a scoff.

"We can look into the reason for that as well. I agree that love had nothing to do with his miraculous survival. While it is a powerful emotion which can be tied into magecraft to increase the potency of some spells, by itself it can do very little. His mother's sacrifice is a more likely culprit, but even then, the only way for such an effect to occur would be to tie it to a spell or ritual of some sort, and not one based in wizardry either. Those are entirely incapable of defending against that curse."

"So, her sacrifice likely powered some sort of pre-configured magecraft shield or barrier? That seems plausible, better than the drivel that the wizards came up with at least."

"Indeed. It would not be too difficult to set up in advance knowing the enemy and the curse he would cast. Impossible for wizardry, but not magecraft. While his mother was not known to be capable of magecraft, his family certainly had sufficient resources to create such a protection."

Raeburn stopped and thought for a while before continuing. "Does Harry have his family's crest?"

"No, he does not, we are unsure of the crest's fate. It might have been lost during the fight against Grindelwald, if not earlier. We won't be able to know for sure until Harry is of age and we can look through his vaults to see if it was simply stored for safekeeping."

"That's a pity, it was rumored to be quite powerful. Well his mother likely created the defense using the Potter's research and tied it to young Harry. She used her death to charge the spell as her child was too young to do so himself. Most likely it was a blood-based protection which is what enabled her to power it with her sacrifice, but I may be wrong. If permitted to examine him, I can give you a definite answer about the protection's nature."

"No, that is not necessary. I'll look into it myself later. May I ask how you are so knowledgeable about this matter?"

"I wouldn't be much of a department head if I was unaware of what occurred among our wizarding neighbors, especially those events that relate to my field of study. That so called 'dark lord' delved quite far into the wizarding version of spiritual invocation so I kept my eye on him. I have my suspicions about what we will find because of this. Now, the room should be prepared so follow me."

* * *

The room was large and dark, about 10 meters across and half that in height. Three torches were set into the walls providing little light and causing dancing shadows to flicker around the chamber. It was dominated by a large magic circle which, upon closer examination, consisted of three complex interlocked circles. Along the edges were various mystic codes and objects of power to focus the ritual's as well as to record the results.

There were fourteen of these objects in total, each one different. Seven were made of silver, and seven of gold. Half to focus the formalcraft mystery, and half to record it. They were very odd in appearance, having strange twisting geometric shapes which did not seem to follow Euclidean geometry. Examining the objects in depth revealed numerous runes carved along every interlocking surface, and also was an easy way to get a migraine.

Raeburn's assistants had indeed completed the preparations and the circle thrummed with power giving off a soft glow that did little to illuminate the dark room. They instructed Harry to strip so his clothes would not interfere with the magics at work. Raeburn had him lay down in a precise location at the center of the circle, then he and his assistants took position on its edges and began a long incantation.

The circle surged with power and light as they chanted in a long dead language, each artifact glowing with a different color. The colors mixed and merged, twisted and flowed, and soon Harry could no longer be sure of what he was watching and decided to close his eyes and let the colors that were also not colors, wash over him. It felt as if he was in a warm ocean with constantly changing currents flowing around him with sporadic bursts of hot or cold water.

As time passed the currents appeared to converge on his forehead and there was an odd tingling which made him feel lightheaded which grew in intensity until it was almost unbearable. And then it was over. No sudden flash of light or explosion of sound, it simply ended.

Raeburn was pouring over the data which had been collected and the other two magi were collecting the foci and flushing the residual prana out of the circle for its next use.

"Well well well. It was certainly the right decision to have the child checked Vice Director, there is a malignant power clinging to the boy's scar preventing it from healing. It seems almost alive... Of course, that's what it is." Raeburn sighed and looked up from the report, his face grim. "I am afraid that it is beyond our ability to undo this magic. Harry is afflicted with a Horcrux."

"A horcrux? I am afraid I don't know the term."

"Few do, it is an obscure type of dark wizarding magic. In order to avoid death, the user literally splits their soul and stores a portion in a container of some sort, typically an inanimate object. In this case, it appears Harry somehow ended up with a piece of the former dark lord's soul in his scar. It would require a magic on par with Heaven's Feel to remove it safely."

"I see. So, there is nothing you can do?"

"Nothing. The Einzberns were the last practitioners of Heaven's Feel, but lost it one thousand years ago. Your best bet would be to ask them for assistance as they may still be capable of using some portion of their lost art."

"You mentioned that these horcruxes are used to escape death?"

"Yes, by anchoring a portion of their soul to an object a wizard is able to evade death upon the destruction of their body. It's sort of a bastardized form of Heaven's Feel with nothing but drawbacks. Only a wizard would use such an inelegant solution to the problem of mortality, a magus would simply transcend to being a dead apostle." Raeburn finished.

"If you do, I'll hunt you down myself," Lorelei growled at him.

"Says number 12," He retorted.

"That's not my fault! Altrouge gave me no choice in the matter! I was myself one minute and… this the next."

"Doesn't matter, still a dead apostle."

After silently fuming for a minute Lorelei composed herself. "Let's get back on track, shall we? So mister Mort somehow stuck a piece of his soul in Harry's scar when he attempted to murder him? Does that mean he still lives?"

"Yes, he still lives. In fact, judging by the size of the soul fragment, I believe that he created several horcruxes prior to this one, and that this one was most likely unintentional and caused by the destruction of his body."

"Well then, he still lives and will likely need to be eliminated in the future. Should we be worried about him at the moment?"

"No. I have done some research into the matter, and while it keeps the user alive it renders them powerless. Someone would have to assist him and cause him to regain a body, either using one of his horcruxes or whatever is left of his original soul, before he could do anything."

"Very well, thank you for the help this afternoon. Come Harry, it looks like our time together will be cut short for now."

On their way to Zelretch's office, Harry walked with a downcast expression before finally asking the question that he had been stewing on. "Ma'am, why did you call me 'this child' instead of calling me your student? Are you ashamed of my scar or something?"

"Oh is that what you've been worrying about?" At his nod she continued. "Not at all. It's because I have many enemies and the Clock Tower can be a dangerous place. They are too scared of my power to confront me directly, but they would have no qualms with going after my apprentice, going after you. It would be best if you were known to be my apprentice by as few people as possible. By the way, when I am instructing you I expect you to call me 'teacher' or 'master', but when we are outside the safety of my rooms you should call me 'Miss Lorelei'. Understand?"

Harry nodded, feeling more cheerful now that his worries had been put to rest. They traversed the rest of the way to Zelretch's office in silence.

* * *

 _Swiss Alps_

Altrouge was sitting on a padded rocking chair enjoying the pleasant weather as she usually did during the afternoon. Today she was rereading her favorite book for the hundredth time, Tolkien's epic tale The Lord of the Rings while sipping on a mug of coffee. The fellowship was just approaching the Falls of Rauros when an ominous portal materialized before her.

She put her book down with a sigh; Zelretch had an unnatural love of the dramatic, and so made his portals as flashy as possible. He could easily use his ability to travel instantly without his ridiculous portals, but what would be the fun in that? Today's portal appeared as if it led straight to hell. The dark portal glowed a sickly orange and was covered in veins of lava. Hot air emanated from it carrying wisps of smoke and the stench of brimstone. There was even an ominous moaning in the background. Then Harry stepped through, completely ruining the effect. Suddenly it began shrinking, before rocketing into the sky sounding like a rapidly deflating balloon before vanishing with a small pop.

Altrouge remained silent for a minute staring at the spot where the portal vanished before rousing herself with a shake and saying, "Zelretch going for the absurd rather than the ominous? That's a new one... Harry? I was not expecting you back until after 6."

"There was a problem and I had to come home early."

"A problem?"

"Yeah, something is wrong with my scar and it needs fixing! Something about a thingy's soul."

"Thingy's soul...?"

"You know, thingy-mort!" He replied while waving his arms around.

Altrouge darkened upon hearing that. "A soul leech. I had thought him smart enough not to use such an abomination. A true Dark Lord would never do such a thing, he's just an imposter."

"A soul leash?"

"A soul leech. A fragment of his soul that is stealing energy from you to keep him alive. A parasite. Not even the most deranged magus would do such a thing as the process damages both mind and magic. But enough of that, how was your day?"

"Really good! Miss Lorelei is really smart and nice, but she is creepy when she laughs."

At Altrouge's questioning look he continued, "When she found out about my element and origin she started laughing in a really creepy way for a reeeeeeeeeeally long time."

"Oh?" Altrouge asked, taking a nice long sip of her coffee.

"Uh-huh. I'm have the dual elements of wind and blood!"

At that proclamation Altrouge performed one of the most magnificent spit-takes in recorded history. For a brief instant, a beautiful double rainbow was seen in the spray. Then the moment ended with Altrouge somehow managing to fall backwards out of her rocking chair in shock.

"Um... is that a bad thing?"

"No, no, not at all," she quickly replied. "Just very unexpected." Altrouge grabbed the nearby table to pull herself back up, but luck was not with her on this day and it fell on top of her along with her mug of coffee knocking her back to the ground and leaving her soaking wet.

"Are you alright Alt?"

"Yeah, let's just continue this conversation inside."

* * *

 _A quick shower later_

"First, before we start, what did Lorelei teach you other than discovering your elements?"

"She told me about history and why we have two separate magical worlds. Miss Lorelei also tried to find out my origin but was unable to for some reason."

"Did she explain how wizards and magi are different?"

"Um… she said that the magic was done differently and that wizards are able to boost theirs with wands or staves, but not really."

"Did she discuss anything regarding magecraft?"

"Lorelei told me about elements and origins, but nothing else."

"Very well, we will begin your education with that topic. While the distinction between magecraft and wizardry is interesting, simply knowing that they are different is sufficient for now."

"All right, that's where we will start then. As you probably know, a magus' mysteries are actualized using an energy called prana. Now magi have an internal store of energy called od, it is typically fairly small and limited and is created by their bodies. There is also abundant energy in the world around you which is known as mana. Prana is created by taking your od or some of the mana around you and converting it into usable magical energy with your magic circuits. Now your circuits are set at birth in both number and strength and provide a strict limit for how powerful a magus you can become. Each circuit can conduct a set amount of prana before literally burning out. The more circuits and the higher quality they are, the more powerful your mysteries can be… and I've lost you."

Harry's eyes had glazed over and he was fidgeting while glancing out the window.

Altrouge looked at him and sighed, "I keep forgetting that you are only 6 and therefore have the attention span of a chipmunk." Speaking up she addressed Harry directly, "Well, let's head outside for now. I think a practical demonstration is in order."

Stepping out into the sunlight, Altrouge held up a hand and conjured a basketball-sized sphere of flame over it. Upon seeing the fire, Harry radiated excitement and Altrouge began to speak once more.

"This is a simple mystery, or spell, that invokes a ball of fire. To keep the spell going it needs to be fed more prana, or magical energy. While you could use your od to do this, most magi are only capable of creating a small amount of their own energy. Mana is far more abundant. What most do is start a mystery with od and then continue to fuel it with mana. You stop fueling it," the ball of fire disappeared and Harry looked disappointed, "and it goes out."

"That was awesome! Can I do that too?"

"Perhaps, but it would be difficult. You don't have the element of fire after all. That means that casting a fire spell like I did is basically impossible for you. Formalcraft- that is using magecraft circles to cast spells- can do so, but that is it."

"Does that mean you have fire as your element? Also, why did it go out like that?"

"Is my element fire? Not exactly, but when you are as skilled as I am you find ways around the elemental restrictions. As for it instantly extinguishing when I stopped feeding the mystery with prana like that, the world saw it as unnatural and extinguished it."

"Unnatural? What do you mean by that Alt?"

"Well, for one the fire was using magical energy as its fuel instead of something like wood or oil, so when I stopped feeding it, it would naturally be put out. But it was also unnatural. Fire is not supposed to burn without a physical fuel source so the world sees it as unnatural and will correct the problem by extinguishing it. Some of the energy used to cast the spell is also used to stop the world from destroying it. Does that answer your question?"

"Uh-huh! Um… what do you mean by the world?"

"Ah, now we are reaching the most important thing to know about magecraft," Altrouge said as she leaned over and ruffled Harry's hair, to his great displeasure. "Gaia, or the world, has a sort of sentience and sees magecraft as wrong, as unnatural, and actively works to suppress it. This is one of the things that can make magecraft so dangerous to its users. It is said that 'A magus walks with death' which is true. Because Gaia suppresses magecraft, the greater the effect of the mystery, the more powerful the potential backlash and the more energy required to actualize or sustain it. Try to overreach your capabilities and death is not only possible but likely."

Altrouge could almost see Harry's perception of magic shatter into a thousand pieces as she spoke. Bluntly stating that death was a possibility every time magecraft was used was too much for the 6-year-old and he collapsed onto the ground.

"Don't worry Harry, although death is always a possible outcome of using magecraft, you have a very high capacity for it. Besides, you are the apprentice to one of the greatest magi of the modern era. Lorelei will push you hard but won't allow you to overstep your capabilities and kill yourself and neither will I. Now then, I do believe you would be interested in knowing what you can do with the blood element. How about we head down into the tunnels with Chimmy?"

Upon hearing that Harry's somber mood was instantly replaced with a radiant smile.

* * *

"Now… where are they? Let's see, it should be somewhere around here. Aha! Found them."

"Found what Alt?" Came Harry's exited voice from atop Chimmy as the chimera padded along behind her in the maze of tunnels.

"Some trolls."

"Uncle Zelly is down here?"

"Not that kind of troll. I mean the big, dumb, ugly, strong, magic resistant kind."

"Oh. Why were we looking for trolls?"

"Because they are big, strong, and magic resistant they will work well as test subjects."

"Oh. Well why didn't you say so earlier? We've already passed 3 different lairs on our way here. One of them is only a few minutes from the entrance."

There was a loud smack as Altrouge's hand met her forehead. Some inarticulate grumbling followed before she turned to him, "Why didn't you say so sooner?" she questioned.

"You never asked. You also never told me what you were looking for down here."

Altrouge stopped, moved to the nearest wall, and began to slam her forehead into it. This lasted for a whole minute until the force broke the wall exposing a small chamber completely filled with gold. A loud *crack* could be heard as the vampire's jaw hit the ground.

"Yay treasure!" Young Harry yelled as he dove into the chamber laughing delightedly. A few minutes later, after he had thoroughly explored the small room and discovered a large chest full of precious jewels in addition to all the gold, Harry returned to Altrouge. She was still frozen in shock.

"Alt, Alt, Alt!" Harry said while bouncing around her and tugging on her sleeves. "Can we take it home with us? Please!"

She remained unresponsive forcing Harry to take drastic measures. "Chimmy, attack!"

The large beast bounded into her knocking her to the floor. It then proceeded to thoroughly and unrelentingly lick her face, successfully rebooting Altrouge's brain. A few seconds later Chimmy the Chimera found itself on its back having been flung off by the girl.

Altrouge turned back to the pile of treasure, and made a complex gesture. Runes seemed to flow from her fingertips and encircle the room glowing a bright crimson. Suddenly there was a whooshing sound as everything contracted until, with a soft pop not unlike that of a wine cork being removed from a bottle, it all vanished.

"We can look through it when we make it back home. For now, let us return to our original purpose: demonstrating the uses of blood magecraft. You can also use wind magecraft, but I'll leave learning about that to Lorelei. Follow me."

A few twists later and they were in the troll's chamber. It was lit by flickering firelight and three hulking shapes sat around it.

"Now," Altrouge began as the trolls started to turn, "blood magecraft can be used in many ways. Perhaps the simplest way is in similar fashion to water magecraft."

One of the trolls began to lumber towards them, the others blinked owlishly in confusion. When it was only about 10 meters from the odd intruders, a wave of black liquid surged from beneath the female and slammed into the troll with enough force to stagger it. It then reshaped itself into a dozen black spears and leapt forward with terrifying speed attempting to cut gouges into the troll's flesh. But the troll was old and strong, the attack broke against its hide and returned to the odd female.

"Now," Altrouge continued as if she hadn't just violently assaulted the massive troll, "while this is the easiest way to use blood magecraft, it is the least efficient way. You need blood, and lots of it, to replicate any of the more powerful water element mysteries. If you are in a battle against many opponents," she continued as the second troll picked up a large log and began to lumber over, "this type of magecraft becomes progressively stronger as you defeat enemies and use their blood to help power your mysteries. The more blood you have, the bigger your attacks can be."

This time a veritable tsunami of black blood surged forth sweeping all three trolls off of their feet, extinguishing their fire, and slamming them against the walls on the far side of the chamber. The flames reappeared the instant the blood receded.

"But Alt, how are you doing that? Where is all the blood coming from?"

"For most practitioners of this art, they provide the blood themselves and have to be careful not to use too much and hurt themselves. As for me, I have my ways."

The large troll was dazed but standing once more and moving towards them. There was a bleeding cut on its arm where it had struck a very sharp rock, the pain enraging it. It began to move towards the dangerous female with purpose, but slowed. Something was wrong. Blood was shooting out of its injured arm like a fountain. The troll bellowed and tried to push forward, before suddenly collapsing like a puppet with its strings removed. Its wound continued to gush unabated.

"One of the deadliest things a skilled practitioner of this type of magecraft can do is drain the blood from an opponent's body. A small cut is all that is needed. Once the blood leaves their body you can control it and force it to leave faster and faster until they become nothing more than a desiccated husk."

All that remained of the once mighty troll was a shriveled form. Not a single drop of blood remained in its body. The other trolls had recovered by now and, upon seeing their dead leader, bellowed and began to charge, their footsteps thundering in the chamber.

On the right was the troll that had picked up the log, and somehow still kept hold of it. On the left was a slightly smaller troll that grabbed a large stone as it ran. The troll on the right prepared to swing at the terrible female. She smiled serenely at it and its swing went wide, and slammed into the smaller troll with tremendous force knocking it to the ground.

"True masters of blood magecraft are able to do more than simply control the blood that has already been spilled. We can control blood even while it is within the body of another." The larger troll turned around, lifted the log over its head, and brought it straight down upon the skull of the other troll smashing it to the ground and knocking it unconscious.

"Controlling the blood of another living being is very difficult. Your blood is part of you and readily responds to your wishes. The blood of enemies outside of their body is easy to dominate and make your own just as it is easy for water magi to control the flow of a stream or form waves on a lake. Blood while it is inside the body of another will not easily bow to your wishes. If the being is magical, it is even more difficult. But with enough skill even this is possible. Their every move is controlled by your whims, their very life lies within your hands."

The troll stood motionless as Altrouge reached out towards it with an open hand, then closed it into a fist. It instantly dropped with a crash, dead within seconds. She then turned to the last one and walked up to it, bent down next to it, and placed a hand near its head which began to glow a pale crimson. The bleeding on the base of its skull stopped and broken flesh knit together once more.

"While Blood magecraft is exceptional in its ability to kill, it is also exceptional in its ability to heal. By amplifying the life energies present in blood one can perform near miraculous feats of healing allowing you to bring someone from the brink of death back to full health in minutes."

"Wow! Is there anything else it can do?"

"Plenty! You can bind the energies in blood from one person to another in the form of magical contracts or use blood rituals to enhance them in various ways. One particularly eccentric vampire used his ability to create the best blood sausages this world has ever seen. As I said, it is a very versatile ability and I look forward to seeing how you decide to develop your ability. Now, there is one last thing that must be done once we return home before we make dinner. It is time to activate your magic circuits."

* * *

 _1 week later, 11am_

Altrouge had finished the morning's lessons with Harry and he was currently in the kitchen preparing lunch. She was sitting on the porch once more reading a novel, this time _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_ by J. K. Rowling. It was a fanciful tale about her young charge that Zelretch had picked up in another world. The main character may have shared the same name as her Harry, but really, sticking his wand up a troll's nose? It was fiction at best with no basis in reality.

As she sat on her favorite chair enjoying yet another beautiful morning in the mountains, Altrouge thought she heard something odd, something unnatural, but couldn't quite place it. The sound quickly grew louder as if the object was approaching her house and she could finally see it.

'What's a helicopter doing out here?'

 **-End Chapter 6-**


	7. Meet the Einzberns

**Note for older readers: the end of this chapter has been changed as chapter 8 now expands greatly on those events.**

 **Chapter 7: Meet the Einzberns**

' _What's a helicopter doing out here?'_

She could see it now flying around the mountain towards her home. With a slight frown Altrouge marked her place in the story and prepared to meet the imminent arrivals.

The helicopter landed a few dozen meters in front of her house on a small stone outcrop which was level, unlike the rest of the meadow which sloped down towards the valley. Three humans exited the vehicle. First was a tall dark man, an Asian if she wasn't mistaken. He wore all black clothing including a black trench coat. Several weapons, most of them guns, were barely visible on his person. He looked at her and tensed, putting a hand out to caution the next passenger.

It was a beautiful woman and entirely clothed in white, the complete opposite of the man. She had long white hair and red eyes, but was obviously not an apostle. A homunculus perhaps? The woman carried a young child clad in purple with similar features, likely her child.

Observations complete, Altrouge stepped off her porch into the sunlight to greet her guests. The man, she noticed, relaxed slightly when she came into the light. He was probably incorrectly revising his classification of her as a dead apostle as very few willingly entered sunlight. Altrouge, being extraordinarily powerful and a hybrid, was an exception to the rule.

"Welcome strangers to my humble abode. Might I know to whom I am speaking and the purpose of your visit?"

The woman replied before the man had a chance to do so. She seemed incredibly cheerful. "I am Irisviel von Einzbern," she began with a curtsey, "this is my daughter Illyasviel and my husband Kiritsugu Emiya. We were contracted by the Clock Tower to deal with a… problem that The Queen's new apprentice has and told that we could find him here."

"You Einzberns sure work fast, I had not expected you to arrive for a couple more weeks. The apprentice in question is my son Harry," Altrouge said with a smile. "I am most grateful for the help."

"And you are?" The man- Kiritsugu Emiya, widely known as the magus killer- asked gruffly.

"Ah, where are my manors, I am Altrouge Brunestud," she replied with a cute curtsey.

The Einzberns froze upon hearing her name. Kiritsugu's face was blank and cold, his hands twitched towards his concealed weaponry. Irisviel appeared to be in shock and Altrouge could make out her daughter asking what the problem was. They remained frozen that way for a full minute while Altrouge watched them in amusement.

She was about to speak again when Arcueid burst out of the house with her typical impeccable timing, her long hair streaming behind her, declaring "Lunch time!"

A second later she noticed the guests and practically teleported to them before bombarding them with questions. The Einzberns still had not moved an inch; it almost appeared as if their brains had been shut down by the unanticipated situation.

A clear *smack* resounded through the meadow. Time appeared to restart for the frozen Einzbern parents and they saw a most curious sight. Altrouge Brunestud, the most feared living (unliving?) Dead Apostle Ancestor, had just facepalmed.

"Meet my hyperactive sister, Arcueid Brunestud," she proclaimed. Time froze again.

And then Arcueid pulled Illya out of the frozen Irisviel's arms and began playing with her saying "Is this your daughter? She's soooooo cute! Can I keep her? Please!"

This pulled Irisviel out of her stupor and she began chatting with Arcueid at a mile a minute. Kiritsugu, however, was unresponsive. It appeared that the shock of finding Altrouge and Arcueid together was enough to cause him to faint while standing.

* * *

When Kiritsugu woke he found himself lying on a couch in an unfamiliar room. There was a table that had been set for lunch. The room had several large windows providing a breathtaking view of the valley below. The ornately carved furniture appeared to be entirely made of mahogany wood as it was a wonderful crimson color. A hanging lamp, not big enough to be called a chandelier but certainly pretty enough, hung over the center of the table. Around the edge of the room were cabinets which displayed fine china, silver, and crystal. The walls were a pale blue and largely undecorated, though there were several framed childish drawings of what appeared to be an enormous wolf next to a young boy.

After sitting up, he heard voices coming from a door to his left. It opened and his wife entered the room together with a blonde beauty whose name he could not quite recall. For some reason attempting to do so was giving him a headache. They set what they had been carrying, bowls of French onion soup, upon the table while speaking excitedly together. Kiritsugu surveyed the room once more attempting to locate what was missing before suddenly realizing that Illya was nowhere to be seen.

Jumping up off the couch, he attempted to draw his gun to interrogate the stranger on the location of his daughter. It was not there. In fact, none of his weapons were and his sudden movement caused him to be overcome by a wave of vertigo forcing him to sit down once more.

"Oh, Kiri, you're up!" Irisveil exclaimed before coming over to check on him.

"Where's Illya?" He managed to growl.

"Illya? She's outside running around with Harry. I was just about to call them in."

"Yeah, don't worry about her. Alt and Prim will make sure she stays out of trouble," the blonde stranger added.

"Excuse me miss?"

"You already forgot? I'm Arcueid Brunestud! But you can just call me Arc like everyone else does!" The blonde enthusiastically exclaimed.

A throbbing pain overwhelmed the infamous magus killer and his vision faded to black once more. Before he passed out he could just make out the _stranger_ laughing and saying "Your husband is really silly Iris."

* * *

To an outsider, lunch must have been a comical sight. The magus killer, a homunculus, two children, and the Brunestud sisters all eating French cuisine together while carefully avoiding any mention of the fact that the Brunestud sisters were at the table to avoid yet another fainting spell from the magus killer. Kiritsugu and Altrouge contributed little to the conversation as they had quickly learned that any attempt to do so was ignored and overridden by the chatterboxes known as Arcueid and Irisveil. Meanwhile, Harry and Illya were lost in their own world in which Illya was trying to convert Harry to follow her new found god: The Great Fuzzy (known to most of the world as Primate Murder and to a select few as Prim).

Arcueid and Irisveil talked about everything and nothing at a pace that would make even the most experienced auctioneer's head spin:

"What do you mean you've never been to Paris? It's not even that far away! If I ran it would only take a couple of hours to get there!"

"I know! But old man Acht won't let me leave the castle," Irisveil replied with a pout, "I've always wanted to leave and see the world but I just can't!"

"Ouch. That sounds like me before I was literally dragged out of my pity party by the old troll. I never saw much of the world until recently."

"WHAT? But you're like, centuries old! How could you not go explore everything!"

"I know! I was so focused on my task that I was ignorant of everything else. I was basically a killer robot."

"What's a robot?"

"You don't know what a robot is?"

"No, is it some kind of magecraft?"

"Someday I'm going to go murder that man for keeping you cooped up like that. A robot is basically a metal human that is programmed to follow orders. They often appear in science fiction and movies."

"What's a movie?"

"You know what, we are watching Star Wars tonight. The _Return of the Jedi_ came out last year so this must be rectified immediately!"

"Ooh, sounds fun!"

"And then, this weekend, I'm going to take you on my expedition."

"Expedition?"

"Yeah, every week I head out to explore some new place in the world and see the sights!"

"Really? Count me in! Well… I hope you can count me in. Grandpa Acht might not be happy about me travelling with you."

"If he has a problem with it I'll deal with him."

"So where did you go last week?"

"I visited the Amazon rainforest. I even found an Apple Butler!"

"Oh for the love of… not this again. Arc there is no such thing as an Apple Butler!" Altrouge exclaimed, interjecting in the conversation.

"Yes there is," Arcueid replied stubbornly, "I saw one. It's this giant man-eating fungus that lives deep within the rainforest."

"Oooh, kind of like a giant sentient slime-mold?" Illyasviel chimed in.

"Exactly!"

"Cool! I want one. Mom, can I have an apple butler please?"

"Maybe, if we manage to find one this weekend Illya."

"Yay! Harry, do you think the Fuzzy will appreciate having a sentient fungus butler?"

"So Arc, how exactly did you meet Altrouge?" Irisveil asked while Harry and Illya began an animated discussion on the pros and cons of having an apple butler pet.

"Well, I was locked away in my castle like normal…"

"You have a castle! Can I see it?"

"No, unfortunately Zelretch still won't allow me to access it. Jerk. Anyway, I was asleep and locked up in my castle to help restrain my bloodlust when I find myself on the porch and Altrouge in front of me."

"Really? Just like that?"

"Yeah, Zelretch dumped me there with no warning or explanation. So the last time I saw Alt, I fought her back in the 1300s to stop her Black Plague."

"And how did that fight end up?"

"Stalemate. She had gained a lot of power by draining the life of so many people and was able to fight me evenly back when I had access to my full power. Alt even managed to steal most of my hair and make it so it could not grow back which sealed away a little more of my power."

"Your hair looks fine now."

"Altrouge gave it back shortly after I moved in here. So there I am, facing off against my worst enemy, about to fight, and Zelretch tells me that he brought me over for lunch."

"Really? All of that just for lunch? He had to know it was not going to end well."

"It didn't, for him. Somehow the two of us were able to bond over our mutual annoyance at Zel, and then he found some way to block me from my home using his power which forced me to live here."

"Wow, that must have been hard."

"It really wasn't. Altrouge is quite nice most of the time and Harry keeps the two of us entertained. Besides, I've always wanted a real family, and now I have one."

* * *

After lunch was finished the group retreated to the basement which had been upgraded over the years from simple storeroom and water/electricity source into Altrouge's workshop complete with a large ritual room. The ritual room was located deep underground because of its size. It had been carved from the living stone of the mountain in the shape of a dodecahedron with each of its hexagonal faces having a diameter of exactly 20 meters. This room was entered part way up its sloped side and a set of stairs led down to the ritual space on the floor. Every hexagonal face, with the exception of the one at the base of the room, was completely covered in intricate runes and circles, many of which were glowing a myriad of colors.

Altrouge, being a master of rituals and formalcraft, had constructed this room in a manner that maximized the efficiency of any mystery being cast within. It also tapped into the local ley-lines to power the rituals allowing mysteries to be performed without requiring any of the caster's energy and at far greater strengths than normally possible.

When Irisviel saw the room she was stunned. While no master of formalcraft she could feel the immense power gathering within the room ready for her to use. If one were to simply direct the raw energy contained within to a city, it would be obliterated. To draw in and stabilize that much energy using formalcraft alone was a feat no human magus could possibly replicate without the use of a sorcery. 'It looks like the Dress of Heaven won't be necessary for this,' Irisviel decided upon examining the room.

"This room is the best location to perform ritual-type magic in the world!" Altrouge proudly proclaimed. "There is a small indent at the exact center of the floor tile that marks where the center of any circle is located. Feel free to use whatever is needed to set up your circle."

"Quicksilver for the circle itself and a diamond at its center to contain the soul fragment once it has been removed. The most difficult part of this ritual is the creation of the circle, not its components."

"Excellent, I will bring the materials down in a minute."

* * *

The circle, once complete, was a masterpiece. It had a diameter of 10 meters and was perfectly spherical. Along the inner edge of the circle runes had been inscribed, they were strange and almost appeared to shift from one to another. Most of the circle was filled with a complex design composed of many interlocking arcs and curves as well as several more runes at key points. Not a straight line existed within the circle. Even the runes were comprised entirely of curves, and the whole thing felt organic in some strange way. There was a clear space at the center of the circle, 1 meter in diameter, within which the diamond was placed and Harry would be sitting. Directly around the circle's center were three concentric rings shaped like gears that were somehow also overlapping. They also appeared to move or shift whenever they were not focused on. Focusing on any one part of the circle, however, was a difficult prospect with the way it appeared to contradict itself. Trying to force your eyes to focus on the circle simply led to a headache as your mind attempted to comprehend that which was beyond human understanding- a Sorcery (or a fragment of one).

Harry was carefully placed at the center of the circle with the diamond at the array's center before him.

"Well then, let us begin," Irisviel said activating the circle. It lit up a brilliant blue and its incomprehensible motion, which before could have been attributed to tricks of the light, was clearly visible. Irisviel, standing at the circle's edge, began an incantation in an ancient Germanic language. Her voice echoed off the hexagonal faces of the room, and as it did the multitude of runes that had been carved into the rock began to glow a dull red as the room thrummed with power.

As the ritual reached its climax, the intensity of the light emanating from the circle grew and its erratic motions intensified until it seemed frenzied. Finally, with a brilliant flash the ritual concluded. No trace of the circle remained in the room and a fine black mist exited Harry's now bleeding scar and was drawn into the diamond. A moment later it was done and the previously clear diamond was now a smoky black color.

"I've always wanted one of these to play around with," Altrouge commented as she pocketed the stone. "So, what next?"

"It will likely take a few days for Harry to recover, we'll stick around to make sure there are no complications. He should be just fine by next week."

* * *

Harry recovered faster than any of them had predicted. By nightfall he was practically bouncing off the walls with his new best friend Illya. After unsuccessfully trying to calm the two of them down enough to put the children to bed, Altrouge gave in and pointed the human rockets at "The Great Fuzzy". That was a mistake.

Morning found a rather distraught Primate Murder, who appeared to have had a make-over. Harry and Illya were asleep in the giant pile of fur they had sheared off of the great beast in their efforts to turn Primate Murder into the world's largest poodle. They had also somehow managed to dye Prim an eye-wateringly bright neon pink during the night. No one knew where the dye came from.

When Arcueid and Irisviel saw the Great Monstrosity, they were unable to control themselves and promptly collapsed in laughter. The greatly affronted monstrosity immediately fled for the nearest waterfall. When it returned an hour later, just as the giggling duo were finally regaining control, it was a brilliant orange with neon green polka dots, causing Arcueid and Irisviel to dissolve into laughter once more. It was only breakfast that brought the two of them back to their senses, Harry, with help from Illya, having once again created a wonderful meal.

As it was turning into a rather warm day, Arc and Iris retired to their rooms to change into something lighter. Arcueid had taken the third bedroom when she moved in and the family had since constructed a small guest house that connected to the living room for any visitors, most of whom went by the name of Zelretch. A shriek emanating from the guest house soon shattered the peaceful morning and an irate Irisviel stormed out. Every last one of her beautiful white clothes had been tie-dyed while she had been appreciating the Great Monstrosity. Exactly how Harry and Illya had managed to do so while also making breakfast she would never know, but she suspected Zelretch had a hand in it.

After chasing the giggling monsters around the house several times, Irisviel was forced to admit defeat. As she sat down next to an amused Altrouge on the porch a portal opened- Zelretch was coming for a visit. The second he appeared a whistling sound was heard, but a quick step backwards and the cream pie sailed past.

"Nice try Harry, but you must remember that I am the true Prank Master!"

And then the ground beneath him vanished and he fell into a tub of honey that sat atop a giant ant nest. As his high-pitched screams filled the air Arcueid came outside wearing what can only be described as goth punk clothes. They were all black, had numerous holes or tears and a number of metal studs. There were spikes, black eye-liner, and even a studded collar.

"What happened to you?" Irisveil asked.

"Harry replaced all of my clothes with these… things. I'll find some suitable revenge for this later." She then turned to the aforementioned child and asked: "How did you manage to get that many bullet ants here?"

"A true master never reveals their secrets."

* * *

 _Friday morning, September 12, 1986_

Harry was in his new workshop attempting to digest a book on basic magecraft theory when the unexpected occurred. He had visitors.

Lorelei was busy with paperwork that morning and had left him to study on his own so when he was interrupted by a white and purple blur smashing into him and knocking him onto the floor it left him dazed and confused. After finally reorienting himself he found a giggling Illya sitting on his chest with her mother, Irisviel, looming over them smiling gently.

"Illya? What bring you hear this morning? Actually, how did you even get here?"

"Well," Irisviel replied, "After seeing the two of you become such fast friends we decided that we would be spending weekends at your place. Altrouge can look after the two of you while Arc and I go exploring!"

"Again, how did you get here… wait don't tell me, Zelretch?"

"Zelretch," Illya confirmed.

"Now, would you get off of me so I can get up?"

"Don't wanna. This is more fun."

"Very well then. I suppose I have no choice but use your greatest weakness against you," Harry informed her mournfully.

"And that is?"

"The fact that… you are very ticklish!"

"Ack! No… mom help!" Illya called as she futilely struggled against the might of the tickles.

"I'm afraid that you have brought this upon yourself dear. It's also rather amusing to watch."

"Traitor! Ack… fine no more, stop, I give up!" She yelled collapsing to the floor next to Harry.

"And thus, the great Harry emerged victorious from his battle against his mighty foe," he narrated while standing up and turning to Irisviel. "So why exactly are the two of you here so early? I'm not heading home until this afternoon."

"A little bird told me that you were given your own workshop this week. Quite impressive for your age."

"It's not much at the moment, just some books, tables, and a few odd items here and there. I think Lorelei only gave it to me in order to preserve the order in her immaculate lab-workshop thing. Also to keep me from blowing anything important up, much less to destroy in here."

Irisviel giggled and ruffled Harry's hair before asking: "Doesn't it make lessons somewhat inconvenient?"

"Lorelei is next door to me and her office is really easy to reach from here too. It's really not a problem."

"Hmmm… that's nice. Now there was one other reason that I decided to visit so early. I heard a rumor that soup is being served for lunch today. I also happen to have several ghost peppers on me. What do you say I teach you how to extract essence of ghost pepper using alchemy?"

The matching grins of pure evil that Harry and Illya wore sent shivers down the spines of all the poor unsuspecting fools in the Clock Tower.

* * *

The next Friday Illya and Irisviel made another appearance in Harry's lab which, once again, resulted in pain (both physical and psychological) for all the magi working in the Clock Tower. Things quickly settled into a routine. Monday to Thursday Harry would learn magecraft under the strict tutelage of Lorelei. Most Fridays Illya and Irisviel would arrive with some new interesting project that would, completely by coincidence of course, cause great distress to the magi within the warren of tunnels and rooms known as the Clock Tower. On Friday evenings Irisviel would run off with Arcueid to see some new exotic location and not return till Sunday night leaving Altrouge to deal with the Terrible Duo. The magi of the London Clock Tower quickly came to dread Fridays.

The most infamous of the duo's "Friday Funtimes" was remembered for decades and only spoken about in hushed tones for fear of a repeat performance. Harry and Illya had somehow gotten ahold of a few of Arcueid's lunch creations and unleashed them upon the poor unsuspecting dining hall. Exactly how the Flying Spaghetti Monster managed to animate every meal in the hall and have them turn upon the hapless magi no one will ever know. By the time the battle was over the Enforcers had to be called in to deal with the problem as the zombie cuisine simply absorbed any spells directed at them and became stronger. The total cost of the damages done in that 3-hour period was estimated at near 10 million pounds. Unfortunately for all, the Flying Spaghetti Monster managed to evade capture. According to the latest rumors, it located and allied with the elusive Apple Butlers and the invisible Crumple Horned Snorkacks where they plot the demise of humanity.

Their reign of terror continued unabated for nearly three months before coming to a rather abrupt halt.

 **-End Chapter 7-**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

This chapter was originally followed by what is now chapter 9, but a reader thought it would be a good idea to have some more Harry/Illya interactions before the 4th Holy Grail War occurred. I agreed and, in a single day, managed to write and edit the next chapter- all 6.8k words of it. If only my writing was always that fast. Hopefully it'll pick up once I'm done with most of the world building and exposition and can focus on events and character interactions.

For those of you wondering what the heck an apple butler is: a British friend of mine back in 4th or 5th grade was over at my house for dinner and we were having apple butter. He mispronounced it as _apple butler_ and then just ran with it claiming that the Apple Butlers are an extremely dangerous sentient fungus that live deep in the Amazon Rainforest and catch their prey (humans) by rolling at extreme speeds down hills. The next morning, he claimed that he had never heard of them before, and, as far as I know, continues to plead ignorance to this day. Obviously, the Apple Butlers are a serious threat and the Wizards got to him and obviated his knowledge on the subject overnight.


	8. Illyasviel von Einzbern (new)

**A/N: Thanks to Shadowz101 for inspiring this chapter in our conversation. Our favorite murder-loli needs more love. This is the newest chapter as of March 27, 2018.**

 **Chapter 8: Illyasviel von Einzbern**

 _December, 1986_

Harry and Illya stalked down the empty corridors in the Clock Tower one Friday afternoon seeking their next victim. Their reign of terror had continued unabated for nearly three months now, and they had no plans of stopping. They had already completed their obligatory big prank with Irisviel, having resorted many mineral samples from the Department of Mineralogy during their lunch break, and were now going after other prey.

"So," Illya started with a smile, "who are we pranking this time?"

"There's this stuck up magus, a real jerk, who needs to loosen up a little," Harry replied.

"Ooh, who is it and what are we going to do?" Illya was jumping up and down in excitement.

"Well, I'm not sure what his name is- it's lord something or other- but we are going to go to his workshop and mess with it!"

Illya stopped jumping and nervously said: "Uh, Harry? His workshop?"

"Yeah, we'll go in and rearrange everything just like we did to the mineralogy department earlier. It'll take him weeks to get it all back to normal again, it'll be great!"

"Um, Harry, my papa said that you should never go into another magus' workshop. It's not safe."

"Huh? But I go into Alt and Lorelei's workshops all the time! Don't worry, it's not a problem."

"But won't he get angry with us?"

"Sure he will, that's the point. Not that he'll ever know it was us. Besides, he's stuck in a class right now and won't be back for at least an hour, and we are here."

The door was pretentious. It was a deep mahogany and covered in gold. There was a nameplate next to the door, but it was too far up for the children to read easily, so they didn't bother doing so. Testing the handle, they found the gaudy door to be unlocked. It swung open revealing a rather cluttered workshop. Despite the room being large, there was very little open space as it was filled with shelves, tables, desks, benches, cabinets, counters, and all sorts of furniture. Almost everything was completely covered in materials and notes. However, despite the seeming disorder, it was clear that this was a meticulous person who likely knew exactly where everything would be located. The perfect target for this prank.

Harry immediately stepped through the door and walked over to the closest desk. It was covered by stacks of papers so, feeling cheeky, he cast one of the few pieces of magecraft he had learned. It was a simple spell, a cantrip really, one taught to him by Lorelei to acclimate him to opening his circuits and calling upon the element of wind. The spell was nothing impressive, with his level of skill it used a tiny amount of prana and caused a gentle breeze to briefly form before him, an electric fan would have been far more effective. A minor mystery which only required a single word, _z_ _á_ _van,_ however, against haphazard piles of loose papers it was devastating. ( **A/N:** závan is Czech for "gust". Harry will be using Czech when he uses magecraft.)

The papers went EVERYWHERE. A white flurry that quickly blanketed everything within several meters of the table in a coating of paper. It would take hours to reorganize the mess. Giggling, Harry moved on to his next target. This time instead of simply blasting it everywhere, he carefully swapped sections of the piles of documents, making them appear untouched but actually being completely out of order.

Seeing the apparent lack of danger, Illya also entered the room. She headed for a nearby counter upon which rested many vials of colored liquids. Clambering onto a chair to reach them, she carefully unscrewed their tops and used a dropper to mix some of them which created interesting and colorful designs and likely ruined their contents. One of them even caught fire and had a small candle-sized flame merrily burning above it! Looking around carefully and seeing no reaction, Illya concluded that it was safe as Harry had said. This would be their best prank yet!

When she was halfway to her next target, beakers which were full of a strangely metallic-looking liquid, she froze. Not because she heard or sensed something, but because she suddenly could not move her legs. Looking down she saw a silvery glow emanating from underneath the layer of paper. She had walked into a magic circle without even realizing it!

"Harry!" She cried, starting to panic. "Help!"

He looked over from where he had been diligently reorganizing a desk, saw her predicament, and raced over to help yelling: "Don't worry Illya, I'll get you out!"

Just before he could reach her he smacked into what seemed to be some sort of invisible force-field which let out a ringing _GONG_ sound. Dazed, he stood back up and, upon putting his hands on the barrier, jumped as there was a loud _BANG_ followed by a softer _click_. The door, which they had left open, had just slammed shut and locked.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!"

Running over to the door, he tried to open it but it would not budge. Running back over to Illya, he pounded on the barrier but it did not yield. She had tears in her eyes now and looked very frightened. Harry ran around the workshop, frantically looking for something that would help. _Anything_ that would help. He had only barely begun learning magecraft, nothing he knew would be of any help here. Harry ran around desperately trying to figure something out and doing his best to avoid panicking at the sound of his friend crying for help, then he heard a soft _click_ and quickly hid himself.

The door opened with an ominous creak and a tall blond man with green eyes and an unpleasant face strode in. "Well, well. What do we have here? Thieves? Vandals? Spies?"

He strode over to the circle in which Illya was trapped, effortlessly reached through the barrier grabbing her chin and making her look up at him. "Oh my, how lovely," he said while examining her. "An Einzbern homunculus. Even better, a model I haven't seen before. Thank you for donating yourself to me, you will make some most excellent research materials."

Illya was scared out of her mind. She was trapped and unable to do anything with a monster hovering over her. Tears were gathering in her eyes; she was too young to be dissected! Fortunately, Harry hadn't been caught and he was behind the man doing something. Then the man spoke again.

"Oh, what is it you keep glancing at? Is it the other who is trapped in here?"

Turning around he saw Harry standing on the desk behind him, frozen. "Wonderful, more materials for my experiments. I was running out."

Taking a few steps over to Harry, he grabbed him by his collar and picked him up. "I do wonder what sort of secrets your body holds; what discoveries will I make when I cut you open?" There was a manic gleam in the man's eyes.

"None, because you are going to let us go." Harry said as he brought his right hand out from behind his back and stabbed the scalpel he had just picked up into the hand that was holding him up. The man howled in pain, dropping Harry and clutching at his injured hand as he teetered back a few steps.

"When I get ahold of you I'm going to…" the unpleasant man didn't have a chance to finish his threat as Harry body-slammed himself into the already unbalanced man causing him to fall backwards into the circle that held Illya. There was a flash of light followed by the sound of breaking glass and Illya was free. Neither of them knew exactly how it happened, perhaps the circle had a bad reaction to the man's blood, but it did not matter. In his arrogance, he had not relocked the door after entering his workshop. They darted towards freedom and were almost in reach of the knob when suddenly there was a silvery wall in front of them.

"You must be stupid to think I'd let you go that easily," he said, slowly standing with his bloody hand stretched towards them. "You cannot escape my Volumen Hydrargyrem."

Searching for the source of the silver liquid that now surrounded them, Illya found that the beakers she had been approaching earlier were empty.

"You brats must really think little of me, Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, to try and pull something like this. Did you really think I wouldn't have any defenses on my workshop? That I wouldn't have an alarm that let me know that there were two intruders in my sanctuary?" He walked towards them slowly, hair disheveled and hand dripping blood. "Oh yes," he continued at their surprise, "I knew there were two of you from the very start. It was clever of you to enter when I was in class and also clever of you to make a mess of my research so it would be hard to determine what had been stolen, but not nearly clever enough. Who put you up to this? Which of my enemies do I need to see suffer?"

Harry stepped forward and answered in a small trembling voice, "No one. We d-did this ourselves. As a prank and nothing more. Let us go and w-we'll promise that we will never bother you again."

"A prank? Do you think me a fool! No, there will be plenty of time to force the truth out of you later and then get my due. Now come, we have work."

The silvery liquid, volumen what's-it-called started contracting around them. Harry and Illya huddled together, terrified, when suddenly with a great BOOM the door was ripped from its hinges and shredded by a concussive burst of air. The quicksilver surrounding them rippled, and then was violently blasted away freeing the shivering children. Before them stood Lorelei, the indomitable Queen of the Clock Tower, her crimson eyes boring into Kayneth's green. He shrunk back involuntarily.

"A-ah, Lorelei," he started while attempting to regain his composure. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"These two are under my protection, an attack on them is tantamount to an attack on me."

He gulped, "Ah, but you see…"

"I can see perfectly well. They are mischievous pranksters who got in over their heads because they are children and didn't know any better. Rest assured, I will be disciplining them for their actions. However, had you hurt even one hair on either of their heads, you would be nothing more than a bloody smear on the wall. Come Harry, Illya."

Lorelei turned and strode down the hall, Harry and Illya running to catch up to her. They glanced back at the terrifying man once or twice before leaving and found him collapsed on the floor with shivers wracking his frame. Lorelei was terrifying.

They walked in silence back to the workshop. Upon entering, Lorelei closed the door and turned her disappointed gaze upon them. "I expected better from you. I have been lenient towards your antics as it wasn't causing much harm, and this place is in need of a little excitement. However, you went too far today and were very fortunate that I had a tracking spell on you, Harry. If I didn't know exactly where you were you were or what you were up to, it may have taken days to hunt you down. Can you imagine what Altrouge, Arcueid, or Kiritsugu would have done if that had happened? There probably wouldn't be a Clock Tower any more.

"Now, punishments. Oh yes, you didn't think you would get off lightly did you? Illyasviel von Einzbern, you are hereby banned from the Clock Tower for the next six months. Harry James Potter Brunestud, you are hereby placed under house arrest for the next six months. While within the Clock Tower you are not allowed to leave the premises of your workshop."

Harry and Illya both began to talk at the same time, creating an almost incomprehensible babble about the unfairness of life. Lorelei waited a minute, then bent the winds around them and forced their mouths closed. "I was not finished. Yes, you may feel that these punishments are unfair. I understand, I was your age once. But they are for your safety. While Kayneth will likely not go for you himself, out of his fear of me, he is likely to push some of his associates into doing something. Having you out of sight and out of mind for six months should give things time to settle down. Now, we have some work to do before Zelretch picks the two of you up."

* * *

 _That night, The Brunestud House, Switzerland_

As she lay in bed across the room from Harry staring through the slanted skylight at the stars above, Illya found herself unable to sleep. Her mind kept going back over the events that took place that day. What she could have done. What she should have done. Harry's scary teacher who she had only met a few times. Her punishment. As her mind kept spinning in circles she decided she would not be able to sleep and got up. She slipped through the silent house to the balcony and sat down on one of the chairs, shivering as the cold night breeze cut through her pajamas.

A minute later the door opened again, a whisper of _teplo (warm)_ and the air around her became pleasantly cool instead of cold. Harry sat down in the chair next to her. They sat there together for what felt like hours, watching the stars wheel across the sky. Finally, Illya spoke up in a soft voice: "Your teacher is really a nice person isn't she?"

"What makes you say that?"

"She barely even knows me and she's protecting me. She looks scary but she's actually nice."

"What if she's just doing it because she's scared of Alt?"

Illya shook her head, "No, that's not it, I can tell. She doesn't seem to be the sort of person who would be afraid of anything. Lorelei feels kinda like a hedgehog. All prickly on the outside but kind on the inside." She paused for a moment to think. "I believe papa has a word for that kind of person, it's tsun-something."

"Hmm… I think you are right. She is strict and scary and prickly, but she's nice and cares too. I remember hearing that something happened with her family, maybe she's scared of losing us too even though she does not know us very well."

Illya giggled. "Maybe, but don't let her hear you say that. She'd probably get mad."

"Yeah, we've done enough to make her mad already. No need to give her an excuse to make our punishment worse. By the way, what made you change your mind about her?"

"Her eyes are warm. When she was scolding us she looked scared. She's nothing like grandpa."

"You've mentioned him before and said you thought Lorelei was like him. How is he different?"

"His eyes are cold, lifeless. It's like he's looking at a thing instead of at me. It gives me the creeps." She answered, wrapping her arms around herself. "I like your grandpa much better."

"Yeah, grandpa Zel is the best. Hey Illya, your family is really large right? Do you have any siblings or cousins?"

"No. It may be large, but most of them are homunculi. There are no children at home, no laugher, just cold and impersonal adults other than papa and mama."

"The Clock Tower is like that too. It's why I started pranking them. All these boring adults who are far too serious about everything. Even George, who is only 12, acts just like them. That stuck-up good-for-nothing jerk! I was going to prank him next too…"

"Maybe we can in May after I'm allowed there again. We'll just have to be super careful about not being caught!"

As they began to discuss their plans of righteous retribution upon the poor soul known only as George, Arcueid slipped back inside the house with a smile. It seemed that she didn't need to worry about the two of them after what must have been a traumatic experience. They were recovering just fine on their own.

* * *

 _The Next Morning_

While Arcueid was playing fetch with Primmy (using a hefty log), the two troublemakers came over to her.

"So what brings the two of you over here on this fine morning?" She asked them.

"Um, Arc, you're strong right?" Illya timidly asked.

"Yes," she answered with amusement as she tossed the log several hundred meters with no effort, the monstrous Primate Murder loping after it.

Harry looked up at her with determination shining in his eyes. It was quite cute. "Arc, teach us to be strong like you!"

"Oh, you want me to train you?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Um," Illya spoke up this time, "because we don't want what happened yesterday to happen again. We weren't able to do anything, but if you train us we will!"

"Very well."

"What?"

"You heard me. Very well. I'll train you. But I will not be going easy on you. So," she motioned with her hand, her face a set in a blank mask, "bring it on!"

"Er, what?"

"Very well, if you do not come to me, I'll come to you. Prepare yourselves!"

She was between them in the blink of an eye, knocked their legs out from under them, and flipped them over onto their stomachs.

"Lesson one: be prepared. Now, come at me."

Arcueid moved back to her original location and waited for them to pick themselves up. As soon as they did, they both charged her, arms cocked back telegraphing their punches from a mile away. They ended up flat on their backs this time.

"Lesson two: when against a superior opponent, do not match strength against strength. Use tactics, misdirection, skill, and cunning to catch them off guard. There are two of you, make use of that. Again."

This time they took a moment to talk before attacking. They split up and attempted to approach from opposite sides. The attack was sloppy and disjointed. Illya stumbled and almost fell, not noticing a large tuft of grass that was in her path causing Harry to reach Arc two seconds before she did. Arcueid moved back slightly and used his momentum to swing him past her and force him to run into Illya. They crashed into the ground.

"Lesson three: always be aware of your surroundings. A misstep like that could be the difference between life and death in a battle. Again."

They tried the same tactic again, but this time were sure to pay attention to where they placed their feet, leading to a much more synchronized attack. It was, of course, not even close to good enough. Arcueid simply maneuvered them into each other's punches.

"Lesson four: always use every tool available to you. Just because I've only been using my hands doesn't mean that you should do the same. Again."

"But Arc, my magecraft isn't usable in a fight yet!"

"And your fists are? Tell me, did you not use a wind spell yesterday?"

"Yeah, but it's not strong at all! It wouldn't do anything!"

"Are you sure about that? Lesson five: be creative! Just because it cannot damage me directly doesn't mean that it can't be used. Maybe if you cast it on Illya as she runs towards me it would give her a bit of extra speed. Maybe you can cast it to send a gust of wind behind you and give you a bit more speed. You asked me to train the two of you, so train you I will when I'm available. Now, again."

* * *

 _Friday July 31, 1987_

"Happy birthday Harry!" Illya greeted him as she entered the house, her mother close behind her.

"Illya! You're early," he replied, sticking his head out of the kitchen where he was cooking breakfast.

"I know, but since Lorelei was kind enough to give you the day off we decided to come over early. I've got a present for you!"

"Save it for after breakfast," Altrouge said coming down the stairs.

"Ah, aunty Alt!" Illya exclaimed, launching herself at Altrouge and giving her a hug.

"I hear that you'll all be going to the movies in New York this afternoon," she said, returning the adorable Illya's hug.

"Yeah! But why aren't you coming along?"

"Ah, that's a secret," Altrouge replied, then leaned down and whispered in her ear, "but just between you and me, I have to bake a cake and decorate the house for tonight's party."

"Really?" She asked with a giggle, releasing the vampire from her bone-crushing grip. "Well, in that case I'm sure it will be awesome."

* * *

A short while later, after breakfast had concluded, it was time for Illya's present. It was a small black box that, when opened, was shown to contain a simple silver bracelet set with a single garnet.

"It's so pretty Illya, thank you!" Harry exclaimed giving his friend a hug.

She grinned. "Mama and I made it. Put it on!"

Harry did, and was about to speak when he frowned. "My bracelet seems to be pulling me towards something. Is it supposed to do that?"

"Yup!" Illya said with a laugh, bringing out a small box. It contained a matching bracelet which was set with an amethyst. She put it on. "These are paired bracelets, if they aren't too far apart, they will gently pull towards each other like magnets. This way we can find each other if we get separated, they are the symbol of our friendship!"

"That's amazing! Thank you so much!"

"What are you looking at me for?" Irisviel asked. "Illya did most of the work, I just advised her through the process."

"Really? Wow, you're getting really good at alchemy aren't you Illya?"

"I'm just a novice, but I can at least do this much."

* * *

 _Friday November 20, 1987, Einzbern Castle_

Illya had a fever. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but it was her birthday, her eight birthday. She had planned out all sorts of fun things to do with Harry, but now she was stuck in bed in her dreary frigid castle and everything was terrible!

Her door creaked open. She didn't want to see anyone today so she buried herself in her blankets and hid from the world. The person walked across the room and sat on her bed causing it to creak.

"Go away!" She yelled.

"Really? Ok then." The person got up… wait that was Harry! What was he doing here?

She threw off her covers and found his face mere inches away. Illya yelled in surprise, flailing about as she fell backwards, and then he started _laughing_. Here she was, sick and miserable and not even sure if he was there or just a hallucination and he had the gall to _laugh_ at her.

"I… I'm sorry… wheeze… It's just… giggle… your, your face… It was just so funny!" He said while trying to contain himself.

"You jerk!" She said with a Mighty Pout™. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't think I'd miss your birthday did you?"

"But I'm sick, and I'm at home in the castle, how are you here?"

"Yes, your castle. I see what you mean about it being a cold and lifeless place," Harry said with a shiver, "but for tonight at least, this place will be different. As for how I am here, we got permission from your creepy grandfather. Grudging permission. You know, that almost sounds like an ingredient in some creepy ritual, 'permission, grudgingly given' or something like that."

"Really? How'd you manage that?"

"I think Arcueid pestered him with her boundless cheer and energy until he finally gave in to save himself a headache or something."

Illya giggled softly before breaking out into coughs.

"Wow, you really aren't sounding good. We brought cake and everything, but can't eat it without you."

"Cake?" Her eyes hardened, determination burning within them. Illya made it all of two steps from the bed before collapsing onto the floor, shivering uncontrollably. Harry tried his best to catch her, but she took him down with her.

"It really is cold in here. It's a bit early, but maybe my present can help you." Harry tried to extract himself from Illya's grip so he could get to his present, but she was proving difficult. Her mutters of "you're warm, stop moving" weren't making it any easier.

Eventually Harry managed. He went to the foot of the bed where left it and brought it over. Whatever it was, was large and contained in a good-sized bag. Harry opened it up, and took out a very large white fur cloak, handing it to Illya.

"For me, really? It's so soft," Illya said burying her face in it.

"Alt and I made the cloak out of Primmy's fur. It's quite big so it'll still fit you when you are older. I even managed to turn it into a minor mystic code by weaving some enchantments into it, kind of like you did with the bracelets." Harry said holding up his left hand upon which sat his bracelet. "The spells use wind to muffle sounds made by the person who is wearing this cloak. Even speech is muffled to the point where it can barely be heard if the hood is up. It's also nice and warm so it should help you in this large and drafty castle of yours."

"Help me put it on," she said, rising unsteadily.

"As you command princess Illya!"

Taking the cloak, he wrapped it around her. It really was quite large- they could probably both fit underneath it comfortably.

"So warm. Thank you Harry," she said, trying to give him a hug but simply leaning against him instead.

"Come, we have much cake to vanquish and a mighty mess to create!" With that declaration, Harry wrapped an arm around her and helped her out of her lonely room to friends, family, and cake.

* * *

 _Wednesday April 13, 1988, Clock Tower_

Harry was on his way back to his workshop after lunch when he sensed something odd in the air, a sort of shift in its flow. A resonance that set him on edge. He wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't anything good. He had sensed similar things before, but they hadn't felt dangerous like this. As he rounded the corner leading up to his workshop, something struck him in the back throwing him across the hall into the wall. The last thing he heard before passing out was footsteps.

Harry awoke in the dark. It was pitch black and all he could feel was his throbbing head, bruised back, and the cold stones upon which he lay. He also felt a sort of buzzing at the back of his mind, a sort of vibration in the air or shift in pressure. It was hard to describe, even to himself.

As he lay on the cold ground his mind cleared and the buzzing was easier to make out. It seemed that he had been kidnapped. By whom, and for what reason, he could not tell. Most likely it was to get to Lorelei in some way. There were plenty in the Clock Tower that disliked her, particularly since she had become a dead apostle. But not many actually knew of his relationship to her, especially since he had been careful around other magi after the Archibald incident. Perhaps he, that sour-faced blond man who called himself a lord, had something to do with it. He did know of Harry's ties to Lorelei after all, and seemed the type to hold a grudge.

Harry stood up with a groan, his aching muscles protesting his stay on the cold hard floor. Feeling around, Harry found himself within a small closed area. There was a bucket and what seemed to be a wooden bench and nothing else. An iron door, complete with bars, blocked his exit. It seemed he was in a cell of some sort, or perhaps in a dungeon. The buzzing at the back of his head grew louder the closer he was to the door, attempting to put his hand through the bars gave him an electric shock. Sitting down on the bench, Harry began to think.

After some time, he came to the conclusion that the buzzing was his ability to sense magecraft. Lorelei had told him that different magi sensed it using different senses and to different degrees of precision. Because sensing magecraft was a sort of sixth-sense, each person's body interpreted it in a different way. His teacher interpreted it as sound. Different types of sounds denoted different types of magecraft. Air was chimes or bells, earth rumbled, water gushed, fire crackled, and ether whispered. It seemed that his own sense mixed with his developing ability to sense changes in the air around him. He would have to experiment with it later, once he got out of wherever it was he was trapped.

Hours later he woke to the sound of something scraping on the door. He must have drifted off. The bracelet on his arm was tugging gently towards the door. There was a soft click and the door swung open making no sound. Illya was standing in the doorway, just barely visible, with two of her white hairs transformed into lock picks. Harry sprung to his feet and was about to speak when she stepped into the room and put a finger to her lips.

Walking over to him, she looked him up and down before nodding her head and grasping his arm. She removed the great shaggy fur cloak she was wearing, the very cloak that Harry had given her for her birthday, and slung it over the two of them as it was very large.

"Now we can talk," she said.

"Illya, what are you doing here? Better yet, how did you get here?"

She looked at him with a smile, then answered as she started slowly moving forward. "I came early this week and found you to be gone. Lorelei was also gone as she's off on an dead apostle hunt. It took a while of searching around before the bracelet picked anything up, and a while longer before I could narrow it down to a specific location. Using the cloak and the dark of night I was able to sneak in past the guards. It seems that this cloak not only muffles sound, but it also muffles magic as none noticed me. Now, come on. We don't have much time before morning and have to be gone by then."

"Where are we and how did you get past the bounded field on my cell?"

"We are in the Barthomeloi compound, in the dungeons. As for the field, it was child's play. Papa has been teaching me a few things."

They moved in silence after that past other cells, several of which were occupied by what appeared to be dead apostles, up some stairs and into a cellar. This is where their first challenge was. While dark and containing rows upon rows of bottles of wine, there were several flickering torches and a sleepy guard. The cloak might do an excellent job of muffling the sounds they made and obscuring their power, but all it would take was the guard glancing in their direction and their escape would be foiled.

Fortunately for the nervous children, he was both sleepy and engrossed in a magazine and they were able to slip behind a wine rack. Some careful maneuvering between the shelves full of wine bottles and one heart-stopping moment in which the cloak caught on a bottle and almost caused it to fall, and they were heading up a staircase to the ground floor.

"Almost there," Illya whispered, "just a few rooms farther and we'll be able to slip out a window."

True to her word, after passing through a couple of empty rooms that appeared to be storing food and walking down a short corridor they came to a large foyer. The sky was already getting light outside and they could see the distinctive appearance of one of the Clock Tower's campuses not far away (each and every one had a large clock tower reminiscent of Big Ben). While the majority of the research institution was underground beneath the British Museum, many of the actual classes were held in the building they saw ahead of them and buildings like them. A building that posed as a very exclusive college to the rest of the world and, more importantly, was connected to all the rest through a network of underground tunnels.

They were half way across the room when they heard a voice: "And where do the two of you think you are going?"

They froze and saw a teenage boy standing in the middle of the room holding a cane.

"How?" Asked Illya, her voice barely audible over the cloak's enchantments.

"How? Well I was on an early morning walk when I smelled a dog. We do not have a dog. It seems my hunch about there being intruders was correct."

"We were just leaving."

"No. No one intrudes upon our sacred ground, no one makes a fool of us and lives to tell the tale, not even children. Now die."

He raised his cane and Harry felt a ripple or distortion building on it. Shoving Illya to the left, Harry dived behind a couch to the right, and did so just in time. The boy swung the cane down vertically and a massive blade of air passed through the location they had just been standing at.

"Tch. I missed."

Harry looked at Illya who was wide-eyed at their brush with death. He signaled to her and jumped over the couch punching forward saying _v_ _í_ _tr v_ _ý_ _buch (Wind Blast/Detonation)_. A distortion in the air shot forward, but the Barthomeloi contemptuously raised his cane creating a wall of wind that tore Harry's spell to shreds.

"How pathetic. Did you really think a wind spell word work on _me_ , a _Barthomeloi_?"

'Rule 17,' Harry thought, lunging forward, 'Do not speak or banter with enemies. It is a fight, not a conversation.'

As the wind wall died down, Illya jumped out from behind her hiding spot to the magus' left throwing the needles she had created out of her hair at his exposed side.

He turned to her with a sneer, "Such simplistic tactics won't work on me!" Swinging his left hand at her releasing a violent maelstrom of wind knocking her needles aside and smashing her across the room.

'Rule 18,' she thought as she attempted to stand up, her vision swimming, 'Opponents that banter are often arrogant and easily distracted. Crush them before they have a chance to take you seriously.' A vicious grin crossed her face as she saw Harry about to strike the unprepared magus. Just as planned.

 _Rychl_ _ý_ _(fast/swift)_ he intoned, the air suddenly pushing him forward at nearly double his original speed. Bringing his arm back to strike at the Barthomeloi, a swift cast of _vich_ _ř_ _ice p_ _ĕ_ _st (tempest/gale fist)_ and he had a swirling ball of air around his fist. The boy noticed Harry's approach at the last second, moving his cane to block his strike. It worked, mostly. The explosion of wind from Harry's fist surprised him and forced him back a step, but did no damage to him or his cane. Changing his grip on the cane slightly, he pushed forward releasing a burst of razor-wind from the mystic code that shredded Harry's arm covering it several large gashes and many smaller cuts, his blood flowing freely.

A swift kick knocked Harry back into one of the couches and the boy strode forward. "A better attempt than the last, but still futile. Tell me," he said, pointing his cane at the battered Harry, "do you have any last words?"

"Yeah, _sv_ _á_ _zat s krev (blood bind)_."

The blood Harry had spilled when struck, the blood that was now pooled beneath the magus' feet, surged upwards forming itself into thin ropes. The Barthomeloi boy staggered back, eyes wide in surprise as he was bound in place and unable to move. Illya stood behind him, a dozen needles floating in the air around her. She pointed at him and with the command "strike!" they surged forward on the helpless target hitting various pressure points causing his muscles to lock up and knocking him out.

"Rule 30," Harry started, getting up with a groan.

"Always expect the unexpected in a fight," Illya finished with a smirk.

"Come," she said walking over to him, "we need to get out of here. Someone is bound to have noticed our fight despite its length." The whole fight had lasted less than a minute.

* * *

"So what brings you here so early this week?" Harry asked Illya after they had reached the safety of Zelretch's office. Since the Barthomeloi were bold enough to attack him so close to his workshop, he had no doubt that they would have no qualms with breaking into it to reach him as Lorelei was hunting.

"Remember how I told you about that war that's coming up? It starts in a few weeks, mama and papa are part of it. They want me to stay at home in Germany until it's done so they let me come visit early."

"How long will that be? Are they going to be ok?"

"Yeah! Of course they will be ok! Mama and papa are the strongest! They say it'll only take a few weeks, a month at most."

"A month? It'll be a month before I see you next?"

"Yeah, I'll be back again in a month, I promise!"

They spent the rest of their time together that weekend having as much fun as they could, to make up for the next few weeks that they would be separated. They romped through the snowy forests with Primate Murder, exchanged riddles with that strange creature that lived by the lake deep under the mountain, spent time acting out plays in various ridiculous costumes under the direction of Spike the Dragon, learned formalcraft with Altrouge in her workshop, played interesting games that Zelretch brought them from different times and places, and slept together next to their Great Fuzzy under the stars on the porch. On Monday morning Arcueid returned with Irisviel from their trip to Hawaii where they battled lava monsters and attempted to out-drink a certain alcoholic dead apostle ancestor while the three of them tanned. They returned to their lonely castle in Germany and Harry waited for Illya's return.

He waited and waited. The month came and went and there was no sign of Illya. The war was over; he knew that for sure. Apparently that golden-haired jerk of a lord ended up dead while his student survived and was back to pick up the pieces.

Another month passed and he heard nothing. Worry was gnawing at him. Worry for his best friend, his only friend, his Illya. He tried to get through to the Einzberns, but they stayed silent. Arcueid tried to get through to them, but they stayed silent. Lorelei tried to get through to them, but they stayed silent. It was as if Illya did not exist. As if she had never existed. They only ever answered questions about her with a "who?"

There was nothing Harry could do. Something was obviously wrong, but neither he nor anyone else knew what. And there was nothing they could do outside of practically going to war with the Einzberns, which was something no one wanted, although Arcueid was sorely tempted and had to be talked down by Zelretch.

Harry wasn't strong enough. He had thought that he and Illya had succeeded, that they had done what they set out to do when they struck down that arrogant boy. But he was powerless once more.

Upon rediscovering his powerlessness, Harry vowed that he would have his friend back. It didn't matter what he had to do, he would have Illya returned to him. If he had to tear the Einzbern's castle apart stone-by-stone, he would do so. Even if she had somehow died, he would find a way to bring his friend back. He would not be powerless again.

Harry threw himself into his training and advanced at an astounding rate. The years passed but his desire never waned. He would have his Illya back and he would use every tool at his disposal to recover her. Eventually, on a fine summer morning, a new opportunity for growth showed itself in the form of an old man claiming to be Headmaster of the finest Wizarding school in the world.

 **-End Chapter 8-**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Why Czech? Why is Harry casting in Czech? There are two reasons. First, I believe that this was brought up in a Dresden novel but can't remember exactly when or where, spells should be cast in a language that you either don't know very well or don't use very much. This is to help mentally separate your spell casting from every day conversation. If you use a language that you often speak to cast, you may end up tossing a fireball in your friends face while discussing camping and that would be bad. Shirou casts in English and Rin casts in German for this reason. Second, I have lived in Prague, Czech Republic for 12 years and know the language somewhat (though my sisters know it much better than me). This makes it easier for me to come up with incantations (plus a little help from Slovnik . Seznam . cz)


	9. Fallout

_**Prior to March 27, 2018 this was chapter 8**_

 **Chapter 9: Fallout**

 _Several years earlier in Wizarding Britain_

The wizarding world was in an uproar. A string of high profile murders was currently underway. Because of Voldemort's activities, high profile murders were nothing new, but these were different. In each incident the perpetrator was identified as a young female vampire, no older than 15, who had somehow broken into some of the most heavily warded buildings on the planet and murdered, in cold blood, several very powerful family heads.

The first to fall were Abraxas Malfoy and his wife, killed late at night on August 20th, 1981, a Thursday. Aurors had been summoned the instant the wards had fallen. They arrived just in time to see a young girl leaving the premises leaving a number of befuddled aurors. Inside they found the bodies of Abraxas and his wife. They were dead from blood loss with the only visible wound being two small marks on the neck identifying this girl as a vampire. A note left at the scene of the crime identified her as _Eclipse_ and named her next target: the Dolohovs.

Knowing the next target, the ministry set up a heavy guard for the Dolohov family. The following Monday they were discovered dead with yet another letter from Eclipse. It taunted the aurors calling their defense pitiful and wishing them luck next time, provided an exact date (Saturday the 29th) and target (the Lestranges), and finally insulted the ministry itself for letting "Thingy-Mort" run around unchecked.

Lord Lestrange and his wife fared no better than the previous two targets had, and died in the middle of the night without a single detection of the young vampire. Eclipse's note after that murder continued to disparage the ineptitude of the ministry and even provided tips on how to properly defend against her attacks. Things continued in this manor up until the ninth and final murder.

* * *

 _October 14, 1981_

It was unusually bright. The moon was full and there was not a single cloud in the sky bathing the land in a soft silver glow. A gently rolling moor covered in heather extended for miles in every direction. There were no blind spots, no invisible approaches, no way past the vigilance of the aurors. Five auror squads had been deployed around the perimeter of the estate- one of several belonging to the Black family. Before Eclipse appeared, this would have been considered overkill. A single squad of veteran aurors along with the power of some of wizarding Britain's strongest wards should have been enough to stop anything short of a full assault lead personally by Voldemort.

Eclipse however, had proven very illusive. Her stealth skills were remarkable, but her combat skills were untested. As there had been no sign of a struggle for any of her previous victims, it was widely believed that the entirety of her skillset revolved around her stealth. After all, who needed direct combat skills with such prodigious talent? Even so, the government had to be seen doing something to stop her rampage- it was becoming embarrassing. While 20 aurors was serious overkill for a single vampire, it did help to calm the terrified public.

Hours passed without incident and the moon continued its trek across the sky. Shortly after midnight, as the moon approached its zenith, she appeared. Amelia, the youngest of the aurors present, spotted Eclipse first. She had made no effort to disguise her approach and appeared to be walking toward them without a care in the world. Several detection spells later to ensure that she was not simply watching a well-crafted illusion, and Amelia alerted her comrades to the situation.

The rest of those assigned to guard the residence quickly gathered and formed ranks, but the young auror could not shake the subtle feeling of disquiet that gathered in the pit of her stomach. As the vampire approached, the feeling grew into a sense of wrongness- her colleagues did not seem to notice. When it became clear that the young vampire was _skipping_ towards them and humming something vaguely classical in nature, that feeling became dread. She was about to turn and warn her colleagues that something was wrong when Eclipse's eyes met her own, and Amelia understood.

The moon had reached its peak, but it no longer glowed a soft silver. The world was bathed in blood as it burned crimson. Her colleagues were oblivious to it all, to the doom that approached them. Eclipse caught her eyes once more, a soft smile on her face as she raised a finger to her lips. Amelia could not turn her gaze away, she could not move or speak. She could only wait for the end to come.

When the girl was a mere fifty meters away, 19 aurors simultaneously commenced the attack. Jets of red and purple, balls of orange and yellow, waves of force and bolts of fire, all flew unerringly to the target, detonating and shattering the silence of the night. Not taking any chances, the spellfire continued without pause for a full minute. Nothing could have survived that onslaught.

When a gentle breeze blew the smoke and dust away, they found the girl uninjured. The soil around her had been rent to pieces, gouged out in great chunks, or simply vaporized. But not a speck of dirt smudged her white dress. There was a bemused smile on her face, taunting them.

Getting over his momentary shock, the head auror yelled: "Take aim, killing curse only, fire!" 19 bolts of green death shrieked through the still air and struck true. The girl was untouched. She tilted her head to the side in apparent confusion and asked: "Is that all?" Wands dropped from nerveless fingers and one poor soul began to babble incoherently to himself. "Very well. Now it's my turn."

One instant she was half the length of a football pitch away, arms at her sides, the next she was before the head auror with her right arm extended to her right. A crescent of black before her marked the invisible path of her hand. The head auror slumped over, headless. A scream was heard, it almost seemed as if it was coming from a great distance, before it suddenly cut off. Eclipse's hand was buried in another auror's chest. One auror, the babbling one, shakily raised his wand and fired off a maximum power bombardment spell. A large crater formed where the vampire had been, taking the lives of two more aurors. His wand arm fell to his side, then continued to fall until it landed on the heather. She was behind him, and three more aurors were dead. Throughout it all Amelia watched detached, no more than a spectator in her own body.

Thirty seconds later, each of which felt like an eternity, and it was done. Amelia was alone with the monster. The moon continued to burn crimson drowning the world in blood. The young auror felt her wand rise and point at the monster. A tsunami of black and crimson fire emerged and rushed outwards. With a negligent wave of her arm, Eclipse extinguished the flames. "How interesting," she said as she strode towards the last auror with a smile. "I think I like you." She patted Amelia lightly on the shoulder, then turned and walked towards the mansion. The world went dark.

* * *

Eclipse was not seen again in wizarding Britain after killing her final targets. The optimists in the ministry, which was most of them, believed that she had foolishly attempted to kill the dark lord and perished in the attempt. More realistic wizards, such as Moody and Dumbledore, believed that Voldemort most likely was the cause of her disappearance, but it was because he died just two weeks later at the tiny hands of an infant Harry Potter. With her true target dead, why remain in Britain?

These murders had caused more panic in the British magical world than the entirety of Voldemort's campaign of terror. He may have seemed unstoppable, but to take out a heavily fortified target required a large number of death eaters in addition to the dark lord himself. Eclipse had done everything solo, or so she claimed. To sneak into a highly-warded building whenever and wherever she wanted and murder the building's occupants all without a trace caused endless fear in Britain's pureblood population. When news of her final attack leaked, that fear became hysteria. No one knew exactly what happened that night other than Amelia Bones, and she would not say much. Not a single trace of the attack could be found, but neither the Blacks who lived in that manor nor the 19 other aurors who were charged with defending it were ever located. Amelia Bones, being the sole survivor, was promoted and given an Order of Merlin, Third Class.

The mass hysteria caused by Eclipse's attacks quickly caused the creation of very strong anti-creature (as designated by the Ministry, such as werewolves and vampires) bills shortly afterwards that swept through the Wizengamot with near unanimous support. It also led to Minister Bagnold's resignation and the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE), Barty Crouch, being reassigned to a different department as the Ministry took a lot of the blame in failing to prevent the attacks.

It also created mountains of paperwork for Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and also the Chief Warlock of the British Wizengamot. All three were full-time jobs and required constant attention. All three had far more work required than usual in the wake of Eclipse's chaos and the defeat of Voldemort. It was so bad that Dumbledore barely managed to clear an hour to settle Harry with the Dursleys. If he had had more time, he would have done things properly and visited in the morning. But the hour of midnight had been the only time he found where he was not required in a meeting of some sort for the next week, and thus had to make do.

In fact, it took nearly three years for Dumbledore to finish off his backlog of paperwork created by the disastrous autumn of 1981. Because of all this, it is easy to see how some things, such as Harry never reaching the Dursleys and instead being raised by public enemy no. 1, Altrouge Brunestud, known to the wizarding public as Eclipse, fell through the cracks and were not discovered for years.

* * *

 _July 31, 1984_

Dumbledore sat back in his comfortable office chair with a sigh of contentment. He had finished his work for the day early and, for the first time in years, had a free afternoon. This was an occasion worth celebrating! So he pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey, poured himself a glass, sat back, and enjoyed the afternoon.

It had only been earlier that month that he finally managed to catch up on his work. The previous three years had been especially hectic, but it looked like things had finally settled down. He lay back, closed his eyes, and was just on the verge of falling asleep when he remembered the date: July 31st. It was Harry Potter's birthday today and he would be turning 4. He wondered how Harry was doing with the Dursleys before deciding to go check. The Headmaster had been unable to do so earlier because of time constraints, but now would be an excellent time to make sure the kid was fine.

Dumbledore had no doubt that it would be difficult to find time to check on Harry himself in the future due to his work, so after his check up today he'd relegate the task to another. Arabella Figg would be a good choice. She was a squib who lived in the muggle world so she could move into the area to keep an eye on Harry and make sure that he didn't get into too much trouble. But first, it was time to visit himself! And with that, the old man stood up, disillusioned himself, and apparated to Privet Drive with a soft pop.

The street had not changed since he last visited. The houses still all looked the same with every yard immaculate, and fancy cars in every driveway. After a quick sweep in order to get his bearings, Dumbledore moved around to the back of the Dursley's house where he could easily see into the yard and building to watch young Harry and ensure his wellbeing.

He saw Mrs. Dursley often as he watched. She tended to stay in the kitchen, but often peaked through the curtains to spy on her neighbors. Young Dudley Dursley made several appearances, mostly to beg for food from his mother, not that he needed more. He appeared more beach-ball than human and his rather spherical physique could not have been healthy.

As time went on, Dumbledore became worried. He had been watching for over an hour now and he still hadn't sighted Harry. Perhaps he was out at a friend's house that day, or had been taken somewhere by Mr. Dursley. As the afternoon wore on and transitioned into evening, his worry transformed from a nebulous feeling of unease into a knot in the pit of his stomach. Despite his dislike for interfering with the lives of others, he would have to go ask them himself about the boy.

Wait a second, the wards! He had set up some powerful intent-based blood wards when he left the infant here, if the wards were operating at full strength, then Harry was fine.

There were no wards. None whatsoever. He could not even find the slightest trace of magic around the house. Dumbledore's heart dropped down to his stomach when he realized that, and he began to feel nauseous. No, no, no, no, no, no, NO! This could not be happening! The wards HAD To be there; perhaps he just wasn't looking hard enough.

Wait! He had tied many of his instruments to spells he placed on Harry to ensure his safety. They would surely inform him of what was occurring! And with that Dumbledore apparated back to his office.

They didn't work. Not a single one of the devices was functional. He hadn't noticed earlier because he had been so dreadfully _busy_. All of his spells had failed. It was possible, of course, that the spells and the wards had simply failed with time and needed to be recast- they had been something of a rush job. After all, Dumbledore had had only an hour to set it all up and drop Harry off at the Dursley's once Madam Pomfrey had finished checking him for injuries.

Or perhaps they had not failed, but had simply been deemed unnecessary by their magic. The threat was over; the remaining death eaters were inactive and would not bother hunting down a child. He was no longer in any real danger. The Dursley's might not want to look after him anymore, and if that was the case he could put him in the care of his godfather Sirius Black. Dumbledore had not heard from Black since that fateful night, but believed that he had left for the continent in grief, wanting to get away from tragic memories.

No one had informed him of Sirius' arrest and imprisonment, and he may not have noticed even if they had as he was so busy at the time. As it was, because they threw Sirius into Azkaban without a trial, the Wizengamot was never called to attend a trial. Everyone believed that Albus Dumbledore was aware of what had occurred and, by his silence, agreed with the imprisonment. He had, after all, set up the fidelius charm that had protected the Potters and thus knew who the secret keeper was. The fact that no one had actually bother to confirm the secret keeper's identity with him or inform him of Sirius' arrest and imprisonment, sans-trial, was just another example of the massive incompetence of the Ministry of Magic.

And so, around six in the evening on July 31st, 1984, Albus Dumbledore found himself once more on Privet Drive in front of the Dursley's house, this time knocking on their door. A large man with a moustache and a thick beefy neck answered. He gave the impression that you were looking at some sort of odd humanoid walrus. Upon seeing the elderly wizard before him and taking in his odd clothing the man's face started breaking out in odd red blotches before he finally spoke.

"What do you want old man?"

"Ah, you must be Vernon Dursley, Petunia's husband. I am merely here to inquire about the wellbeing of your nephew."

"Nephew? I have no nephew."

"Surely you must be mistaken. Does not the name Harry Potter ring any bells?"

"Nope, now get off my porch before I call the police to return you to the asylum." And with that Vernon slammed the door in the headmaster's face.

After getting over his shock that he had been so rudely turned away, Dumbledore knocked again, and again, and again. Finally a few minutes later Vernon opened the door again.

"Didn't you hear me first time you barmy old coot? Leave!"

"Ah, wait just one moment," Dumbledore said attempting to remain polite, "there appears to be some sort of misunderstanding here."

"I'll say," the oversized main said with a snort.

"You see your nephew Harry's parents died on Halloween almost three years ago."

"And? What does that have to do with me?"

"I was exceedingly busy at the time and was unable to spare much time to see him placed with a new family. As your wife is his closest living blood relative, I decided to send him here. However being exceedingly busy, and only able to escape my duties for a short time in the middle of the night, I was unable to hand him over directly, so I left him here."

"Here? On my doorstep?"

"Yes. He was quite safe as the protective wards were up and there were warming charms woven into his blankets. You should have found him on the morning of November 2nd."

Vernon snorted again rolling his eyes, clearly not believing the odd man before him saying "Nope never saw the kid. Now if you are done, why don't you go pester someone else freak. We don't like your kind being around here." Before once more rudely slamming the door in Dumbledore's face.

He could faintly hear Petunia asking who it was and Vernon's reply of "just some freak, no need to worry about it."

Well that was it, wasn't it? Harry was not there. Harry had never been there. Someone must have whisked him away in the early hours of November 2nd.

* * *

 _Later that night_

Hogwart's Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall knocked three times on the headmaster's door without receiving an answer, which was very odd as Dumbledore always called his visitors in before they had even managed to knock once. She had with her some important documents regarding the school's budget that needed to be approved.

'Dumbledore must be out on urgent business,' she surmised, 'I'll just leave the documents on his desk for later.'

The sight that greeted the venerable witch was not the one she had anticipated. Dumbledore was slumped forward on his desk, apparently asleep, with two bottles of Campbell's Finest Old Whisky before him, one already empty. It was clear that the headmaster had been drinking heavily that evening, which was very out of character for him, but explained why he had not noticed her arrival.

"Really Albus, I know you are happy that you finally caught up with your paperwork but this is taking things too far."

"S'not why Imma beeen drinkin'."

So he was awake, just not very coherent.

"What was that Albus? You will need to speak up."

"Made big mis'take yearsh ago…" Albus raised his head off the table slightly and attempted to focus on McGonagall. "Jus' learn'd about it toda.. towd… now. A few hoursh ago."

"And what mistake would require that our illustrious headmaster drink himself into a stupor?"

"Ha'rry Po'er. He's missin."

"I beg your pardon? I almost thought you said that Potter was missing."

"I _did_ say that," Dumbledore replied, his words gaining some clarity. "Jus' this afternoon I wen' down to Pete.. Petu.. Pert…? His aunt's house. Harry wasn' there. Had nev'r been there. He's gone Minerva an' I can' find him. No wards, no nuffin."

"Gone? How horrible, whatever shall we do?"

"Send young Sirius a lett'r. He m'ght have 'im."

"Albus… you have had far too much to drink if you have forgotten that."

"Forgott'n wha?"

"Sirius is in Azkaban."

"WHAT!?" Dumbledore thundered suddenly standing, sober once more.

"He was put into Azkaban only a few days after Harry was orphaned for betraying his parents and murdering poor Pettigrew."

"Betraying the Potters? But he never did that! Pettigrew was the secret keeper, we used Sirius as a decoy!"

"Wait, what?"

"I cast the Fidellius charm myself. Why in the world is the poor lad in Azkaban?"

"But… didn't you know?"

"No! No one ever told me! I had assumed that Sirius had simply left for the mainland as he did not want to be reminded of painful memories!"

"But surely you testified against him at the trial and that's why he's locked up, right?"

"What trial? I would have remembered it if there was one and ensured that he never went anywhere near that blasted prison." Sitting heavily Dumbledore placed his head in his hands and quietly continued: "Yet another mistake. Perhaps I'm not fit for all of this anymore."

McGonagall had also taken a seat during the Headmaster's outburst and was now pouring herself a glass of whisky.

"It's time I retired, Minerva."

"Retired?"

"I have made some egregious errors; it seems I am no longer fit as I once was. I should resign immediately."

Flabbergasted at the sudden turn, the Transfiguration Professor could only gape at him.

"Yes, I have been in this position for far too long. It is time a younger and more able wizard took over."

"But Albus, you can't be serious!"

"Look at me, I am about to turn 104 and here I am trying to do three jobs that should belong to younger and more able people and managed to mangle all of them."

"Albus, you've been doing a marvelous job! How can you even say that?"

"Harry is gone, possibly dead. Sirius is in prison. The ministry has been pushing yet more laws through that strip rights from the muggleborn and the so-called 'dark creatures'. Internationally a civil war has broken out between magicals in the USSR and the ICW is deadlocked on the issue. Meanwhile we have not managed to keep a defense teacher for more than a single year in nearly two decades, and Binns is still teaching. Anyone with even a modicum of competence would have done better. Thus, I resign."

"I won't allow it."

"Minerva?"

"Don't interrupt me. Yes, things are bad and yes, you have massive responsibilities in the parties responsible for such things, but I have had enough of your moping about it. Where is the man full of fire who has lead the wizarding world for decades? Where is the man who would not just sit back and allow this to happen but fight against it with all of his might? Where did he go?"

"He was killed by the paperwork."

"Nonsense. It is now clear that holding all three jobs at once is too much for any single person to deal with, but what alternatives are there? If you stepped down who would take your place? Malfoy? Nott? Parkinson? Leaving without any warning like you have proposed would create a power vacuum and make the situation exponentially worse. Find someone worthy to take over for you and focus your energy on a single job."

"You really think that we can salvage the situation?"

"Of course, I have complete faith in your ability to do so."

"Thanks Minny, I'm glad I have you here. Now, we have much to do this evening so let's get started."

* * *

 _August 2_ _nd_ _, 1984. Azkaban Prison._

"Sirius Black," the headmaster started with a sigh, "I am sorry about all of this. I never learned you never received a trial. In fact, I did not even know that you had been imprisoned until a few days ago, no one saw fit to inform me. Of course, that is no excuse, I should have found out myself. I was so busy putting out fires and dealing with chaos at the time that I simply assumed you had left for the continent." He said wearily.

Sirius, who had been struck dumb by the unexpected appearance of Dumbledore, finally managed to find his voice, "Harry," he croaked out, "How is my godson doing?"

"And that leads us to the other purpose of my visit. I don't know."

Sirius looked at the old man uncomprehending. How could he not know, Hagrid had taken the child to him!

"I brought young Harry to the Dursleys..."

He was cut off by a sudden yell as Sirius leapt up. "What! Why would you do that? They are the last people he should have gone to."

"I know of their dislike for magic, but at the time there was no better choice. They would not coddle Harry or let his fame get to his head as a wizarding family would, but they would not mistreat him either."

"You are wrong about that headmaster. They did not dislike magic; they _hated_ it with a passion. I heard Lily rant about her sister and her whale of a husband enough to know that. The Dursleys would have done anything to try to be rid of Harry's 'freakishness', even beat it out of him! How could you even think of putting him there?"

Dumbledore sighed, yet another mistake to add to his long list. He really should have listened to Minerva when she had said they were "the worst sort of muggles."

"I was going to place him there as they are his closest relatives. This enabled me to set up some very powerful blood ward protections for Harry that would keep him safe from discovery or harm. I had not thought of him being mistreated by his relatives, who would be callous enough to harm an innocent child? But enough of that, it seems we have had a blessing in disguise for Harry is not with the Dursleys, and in fact was never with them."

"How can that be? You said you left him with them."

"I do not know. Like I said, things were so hectic at the time that I was never informed of your imprisonment. I just went to check on him a few days ago as his birthday finally reminded me to do so and he was not there. Never was there. My only guess is that when I left him on their doorstep, don't interrupt Sirius, let me finish. My only guess is that someone else took him after I had left. I hadn't the time to do more than set up the wards and leave him there with a letter and some warming charms. In hindsight I should have visited in the morning to ensure they took him in and were aware of the situation."

Dumbledore looked every one of his 104 years at the moment,

"Anyway," he continued composing himself, "my tracking and monitoring charms are all down so I have no idea where he is. I do, at least, know that he is alive as his name remains on the Hogwarts grimoire along with all future students. We will just have to wait until his 11th birthday to find out where he is and hope that he has been kept in good hands."

Sirius was understandably upset at this, but there was nothing that could be done at the moment.

"Now, as I have so often been reminded these past few days, I am old and no longer fit to lead. Unfortunately there is no one to take my place, which is the only reason I have not yet quit the Wizengamot. Frank Longbottom would have done very well, but he and his wife are permanently stuck in St. Mungo's after Bellatrix attacked them. His mother, Augusta, would also do well, but she is rather old herself. Almost anyone else would quickly be supplanted by Malfoy or one of his allies, and that would be a disaster. So you are going to be my successor."

"Come again, I'm sure I just misheard that last part."

"You did not mishear; you will be the next Chief Warlock."

Sirius burst out laughing and fell to the floor. A few minutes he finally gained control of himself and was able to speak. "Me? You think I'll be the next Chief Warlock? I haven't heard a joke that good in years!"

"I am quite serious right now," Dumbledore said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I know that you are currently a prisoner, but do remember that I was the one to cast the Fidelius charm and am well aware that you were not the secret keeper. With my position as Chief Warlock and my testimony, it should be easy to finally have your trial and freedom. As for you becoming my successor, you are a Black and were born into politics no matter how much you might dislike it. After your recovery from your stay in this vile place, I will train you myself and step down in a few years when you are ready. After that you will work to improve our society and revoke some of the laws that I carelessly let through over the past few years while I will focus on Hogwarts and return it to greatness."

* * *

 _July 20_ _th_ _, 1991_

Dumbledore was nervous. Today the letters to new students were being written and he would finally discover what had become of the wayward Potter. He had done much in the last few years since vacating his role in politics in order to better run the school.

The school had seen a drastic reduction of quality during the war and he had been so busy with the cleanup afterwards that it did not recover. It was not until years later, once Dumbledore had resigned his position on the Wizengamot, that he realized just how much Hogwarts had declined. Dumbledore immediately began reworking the curriculum so that they could once more declare that Hogwarts was the best school in the world, and it be truth. There were several long overdue staffing changes that had to be made, such as the permanent removal of Binns, finding a way around the "defense against the dark arts curse" (he had high hopes for young Quirrel), and reassigning Snape to only teach the upper years, along with numerous other changes to greatly improve the school's quality.

And now it was finally complete. The stone was safely protected in the bowels of the school behind the most powerful magical defenses possible. All the teaching positions were filled and the incoming class had more than 70 students, the largest incoming class since the late 70's. The only thing left was Potter.

The magic quill that addressed all the letters to prospective students began moving. It would be a while before Potter's name came up. He wondered how the boy was. Hopefully whoever had taken him from the Dursley's porch had provided him a nice family. Dumbledore could only hope that a death eater had not gotten their hands on young Harry, or worse, a magus.

After a surprisingly brief wait, the quill wrote out this address:

 _Mr. H. Potter Brunestud_

 _Lab 3-A_

 _The Clock Tower_

 _London_

Dumbledore had only one response to this news and exclaimed: "Pickled nudibranch eyes!"

 **-End Chapter 9-**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Insert your nonsensical swear of choice at the end of this chapter. The odder, the better. It is Dumbledore after all. The Elder Swear is also a valid choice.


	10. The Obligatory Shopping Chapter

_**Formerly chapter 9. A minor change was made to the components of Harry's wand.**_

 **Chapter 10: The Obligatory Shopping Chapter**

 _July 28_ _th_ _1991, Morning_

Harry stood outside of a small dingy pub named _The Leaky Cauldron_ that the bustling London crowd appeared unable to see. Their eyes moving from the bookshop on one side of the pub to the music store on the other without appearing to notice the pub between them. Next to him stood a young and smartly dressed man with long black hair. He was Waver Velvet, one of the few survivors of the 4th Holy Grail War, and the savior of the Archibald family after recently compiling his former teacher Kayneth's unorganized work into an encyclopedia. While Waver was a very poor magus, he was extremely observant and was becoming an excellent teacher. The reason he was here with Harry was because Lorelei had selected him to be the liaison between the Clock Tower and Wizards after her meeting with Dumbledore the previous week.

Harry sighed as he continued to stand before the pub. Lorelei had told him that he would be attending Hogwarts, the Wizarding school, this coming September and he was not particularly happy about it. He had been just fine as Lorelei's apprentice. She was a hard taskmaster, but you couldn't argue with the results. The Queen drove Harry hard and forced his innate talent to the limit until he stood far above his peers in both knowledge and ability. And best of all, every weekend he returned home to his family. But now he had to attend a boarding school somewhere in the middle of Scotland and learn an entirely new magic system while attempting to further his own studies in magecraft. Harry scowled as he observed the pub.

Waver was not happy either for that matter, as looking after The Queen's apprentice was not high on his list of 'things I want to be doing right now'. It was actually pretty close to the bottom of said list. While his task was important, friendly relations between wizards and magi having ended centuries ago, he would much rather continue his research instead of watching over some snot-nosed brat. And then he had to take over the brat's education in magecraft at his new school for the duration of the school year far from the Clock Tower's research materials. The sour expression seemingly etched upon his face gave evidence of his foul mood. And so, after another moment of contemplation, the unhappy duo finally entered the dingy pub.

The pub looked no better on the inside than it had from the street. It was badly lit and rather dirty. It was also fairly empty. In a corner away from the door three witches sat, pointed hats and all, drinking sherry. The bar was tended by an old man who was both bald and toothless and studiously cleaning a grimy glass. A few other customers were scattered around the establishment talking quietly amongst themselves.

Ten minutes later, a far livelier group entered the bar. It was comprised of five children approximately Harry's age, those he presumed were their parents, and a stern looking witch with square glasses and her hair up in a bun. She was most likely this "Professor McGonagall" they were supposed to meet. Upon seeing the grumpy magi, she promptly strode over and introduced herself.

"I am Minerva McGonagall, head of the Transfiguration department at Hogwarts. You must be Mr. Potter. Welcome back."

As she spoke to Harry the room quieted. Once she finished, before she could speak to Waver, there was a great deal of scraping as chairs were pushed back and the occupants of the pub practically stampeded over and surrounded the boy. A great deal of "Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back", "Bless my soul, Harry Potter… What an honor", "So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud", and "Always wanted to shake your hand" was heard all at once as they crowded around Harry, so of course none of it was intelligible.

After a few minutes of this, with those who had arrived with Professor McGonagall looking on in confusion, the crowd dispersed and returned to their seats. Harry was left looking somewhat disheveled and ready to bolt at the first sign of another admirer. Meanwhile McGonagall was nearly apoplectic with rage at the tavern's other denizens, while Waver had a bemused expression and a video camera courtesy of Zelretch.

Calming herself so that she would not hex the next witch or wizard to move, McGonagall turned back to the duo to apologize for the rather excitable nature of her fellow wizards. Before she could begin, the so-far overlooked magus stepped forward.

"Waver Velvet," he said holding out his hand, "I am going to be Harry's magecraft tutor over the school year. You know, I had been informed that there would be a scene when Harry was noticed by the wizards but I never imagined that their reaction would be quite so strong, or so amusing," he said with a chuckle.

"Minerva McGonagall, transfiguration department head," she replied automatically taking his hand. "I am sorry for the reprehensible behavior of my fellow wizards, but they can be quite excitable at times."

"Don't worry about it, it caught Harry unprepared and he won't be forgetting this lesson for a while. Now, why don't you introduce us to the rest of your group."

"Very well, first we have Dean Thomas and his father," she said introducing a tall black boy, "Alex Keefe," a skinny boy with short brown hair, "Thomas Smith," a taller and somewhat bulkier boy with glasses, "Sarah Davies," a tall blonde girl, "and finally Hermione Granger," a girl with curly brown hair. "They are also starting Hogwarts in September."

* * *

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Professor McGonagall said as the archway formed. The group stepped through and was blown away by the bustling alley. The muggleborn students and their parents were, predictably, amazed by the magic on display around them. Witches and wizards swarmed along the cobblestone lane, bustling in and out of various arcane stores purchasing every magical item imaginable. There was a precarious stack of cauldrons in front of a shop to their left reflecting the sun from their polished copper, brass, pewter, silver, and iron surfaces. Across from the cauldron shop was an apothecary which contained piles of various goods from dragon livers to newt eyes and every herb under the sun with brightly colored animated signs declaring the prices. Further down the alley to the right was a shop called "Quality Quidditch Supplies," before which many boys Harry's age were grouped apparently admiring a sleek broomstick that was a "Nimbus 2000", whatever that meant. Across from that store, many odd silver instruments could be seen in a shop's window along with piles of spell books and several large crystal orbs.

The magi were blown away for a completely different reason, the utter disregard by the wizards of using magic to perform mundane activities. This was, in their eyes, an utter waste of magic which should always be used sparingly. While there had been a very popular theory about the limited nature of magic that had held sway over the Association for centuries, it had recently been disproven, but still had a strong grip on their minds. Despite magic itself not being both limited and decreasing, there were strong limits on how much a magus could use at any given time. One must not use magic for frivolous uses, such as animating signs, because who knew what might happen later that day that would require that portion of already expended prana? Besides using magecraft was inherently dangerous, so no one had even thought to create a mystery that could do what the magi saw in the alley. If learning how to animate a sign had a decent chance to kill the magus, was it not far better to focus on more useful things?

Because of this several branches of study and their associated mysteries had been discarded as useless, such as the notorious Gradation Air. What was the point of projecting an item using pure mana that was far inferior to the item itself? Absolutely none. And so, it, like so many other branches of study, was abandoned and forgotten. At least, it was until a certain red-haired Asian spell caster managed to greatly improve it, but that would not happen for several more years.

So with amazed muggles and grumpy magi, Minerva McGonagall led her troop down the winding alley that practically glowed due to the sheer quantity of magic it had absorbed over the years to an impressive marble building.

"Gringotts Bank. It is here that you will convert your money so that we may purchase supplies for the school year. The bank is run by goblins, please be respectful to them. Despite their appearance, they are easily angered and formidable warriors."

The group passed into the building through ornate silver doors which held a warning against thieves. As they entered a large marble hall, Harry took a good look at the goblins. They were short, standing at about half the height of an adult wizard, had swarthy clever faces with beards in varying styles (most were pointy), as well as long fingers and feet. A large number of goblins sat on high stools behind a marble counter and were performing various financial activities, though to the magus-trained Harry it all appeared to be nothing more than a show. Weighing a pile of huge rubies, measuring a stack of sparkling emeralds that looked like they would barely fit into the palm of his hand, counting gold coins, inspecting diamonds through a looking glass… No one in their right mind would do such a thing in the open, appearing to be carelessly inspecting mounds of wealth, unless it was a show to impress and distract the wizards using the bank.

Impress and distract it did, as Harry and Waver's companions, along with every other wizard in the bank, could not keep their eyes off of the spectacle. However, hidden in the shadows around the edges of the room, were many armored goblins with wicked looking pikes and swords. It was almost as if they were daring the wizards to try something, to give them an excuse to slaughter them and confiscate their wealth. It was unnerving.

"Now, before we start, I need to explain the currency. Unlike with pounds, we use gold galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts. There are 17 sickles in a galleon and 29 knuts in a sickle. Now a galleon," the professor continued pulling the coin out, "is worth approximately 10 pounds. You will need around 50 galleons to purchase everything today."

"10 pounds? That is pure gold correct?" One of the parents asked, "If it is, then shouldn't the exchange rate be closer to 20 or 25 pounds a galleon?"

"I'll answer this one," a well-dressed goblin said stepping up to the group. "There is much more gold in the wizarding world than in the mundane world, so its price is far lower. Various spells and rituals have been created over the years capable of transmuting or creating gold, most notably the philospher's stone, leading to much of the surplus. We also have ways to ensure that gold does not find its way into the wrong economy. Now, if you will step up we will start. As the professor stated, you will need around 50 galleons to cover todays expenses. If you visit second hand stores and buy the bare minimum, you can make do with only 30. Of course, the opposite is also true. If you really wanted to, you could easily spend hundreds of galleons on this shopping trip. The item that is likely to be the most expensive, and absolutely necessary, is your wand. They cost 7 galleons."

"Only 7 galleons for a wand? How do wand makers stay in business with such a low price?"

"Government subsidies of course."

* * *

After the visit to Gringotts, and the thrilling cart ride down to his vault (thrilling for Harry at least, Waver still looked a little green), McGonagall addressed the group:

"We will split up for now and reconvene at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor at 14:00. Finding a wand can take quite a while and it will be far more productive for it to be done one at a time. Stay within this alley so I can come find the next student once the last is done. Dean Thomas, you first."

And with that, the group dispersed. Two of the students, Hermione and Thomas, made a bee-line for the bookstore while Sarah dragged her parents next door to a shop called "Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions" and Alex sped in the opposite direction to "The Magical Menagerie".

"So," asked Harry, "where shall we begin?"

"According to the list," Waver responded pulling out a sheet of parchment, "you need to buy a uniform, a large number of books, your wand, and potions supplies including a cauldron, scales, and glass vials. You may also want to see what kind of magical trunks are available as you will be bringing far more than the average student along so you can continue your studies."

"Why don't we start with the potions equipment back at the start of the alley, I'm interested to see what can be done with formalcraft using wizarding ingredients."

Walking back down the alley to the apothecary, the two magi felt out of place in their formal, if old fashioned, black clothes as they were surrounded by wizards and witches of all ages wearing robes and rather absurd pointy hats. It was almost as if they were trying their best to be stereotypical.

Upon entering the small apothecary, Waver and Harry were met by an explosion of smells which mixed into a rather potent combination of bad eggs and rotten cabbages. They were also met with a much larger room than they had expected based upon how the shops in the alley appeared to be crammed together with barely enough space for a door and a window in which to display goods. This shop was obviously larger on the inside than the outside. Now this was a proper, not to mention practical, use of magic! Harry decided to make learning this ability a priority.

The two magi quickly became engrossed in the interesting goods they found and ended up buying a little of everything to experiment with- even the extremely expensive unicorn horn (at 21 galleons a piece). They had more than enough money to cover it all with their enormous funding from the Clock Tower and Harry's newfound wealth.

After spending nearly an hour making those purchases (there were just so many interesting things to play with!), they snagged a cauldron and some glass vials from across the street and headed back in towards the center of the alley. A gaggle of children still surrounded the broom store, which greatly confused the magi as broomsticks belonged in the 18th century and were only ridden by women.

A brief stop at Twilfit & Tattings later for robes of the highest quality- even if they had to wear silly robes magi would never look anything less than amazing- and picking up an interesting trunk (3 compartments! How did it work?)- they reached their true trial: the bookstore. It seemed that they were not alone in this trial, the two families that had rushed off to the store at the very beginning were still there and one of them, the boy named Thomas, was being pried off a bookcase by Professor McGonagall so he could buy his wand.

The bookstore was paradise! Thousands of books on magic freely (if one had money) available for all. The shelves towered above them forming small winding paths through the store. There was also a second floor of sorts- it was little more than a pathway around the edges of the store at a height of about 4 meters so that the higher books could be reached more easily. Harry and Waver looked around attempting to decipher the cataloguing system as there did not appear to be any logic to the store's organization. Why was astronomy next to household charms? What did transfiguration have to do with herbology? Shouldn't potions be next to herbology instead? And why in the world was the fiction section surrounded by texts on divination? Oh wait… that one actually made sense. How odd.

As Harry and Waver browsed through the shop in utter silence (sweet blessed silence) looking for interesting titles, he noticed something odd. Why was his name, or at least his original name, on a number of the fiction books? Harry Potter and the Black Knight? Harry Potter and the Ring of Power? Harry Potter and the Fight for Love? Wait what? Oh, it was just the name of a town somewhere in France. Harry let out a sigh of relief. But still, didn't the British wizards have anything better to do than write fiction about a person they knew nothing about?

Nearly an hour later and he had located and paid for the required books along with several others that looked interesting, including a couple of the "Harry Potter" fiction books. Altrouge would probably enjoy them. Another boy (Alex, if he remembered correctly) and his parents had appeared at some point while he was buried in the stacks, while Hermione had managed to create a tower of books larger than herself and was attempting to bring it to the front to pay while her parents looked on amused.

McGonagall entered the shop just as Harry and Waver left. "So, where to now?" Waver asked, "We have everything except your wand and it looks like it's not quite time for that yet."

"Why don't we go take a look at The Magical Menagerie and see what kind of creatures they have?"

"Looking to add to your collection of overly dangerous pets?"

Harry attempted to look innocent. Emphasis on attempted.

"Oh, don't try that on me, I've heard enough about your exploits to know your true motivations in visiting this shop. Fortunately, they are unlikely to have anything particularly dangerous here."

"Spoilsport."

A minute later the duo walked through the establishment's doors and were greeted with a cacophony of bird calls, screeches, hisses, and various other animal noises. All manner of creatures could be found within the shop's expanded interior. The walls were lined with cages containing everything from common toads, rats, and cats to more exotic species like jeweled turtles, puffskeins, and a very odd rabbit that turned into a top hat when startled.

If one discounted the obviously magical nature of some animals, it felt very much like your average mundane pet store. It was cramped, loud, and about half the store was dedicated to various foods and supplies that the shop's denizens required.

"This place is boring. They don't have anything more dangerous than a baby niffler here!"

"Frag you, you yellow-livered snot slug!" A rather large and rude ferret, a jarvey, called down from its cage. Harry ignored it.

"I know, where are the apple butlers? I was told there would be apple butlers." A new voice spoke up. It was Thomas, the boy who had to be pried off a bookcase and carried out of the bookstore to go buy his wand.

"Apple butlers? They are somewhere deep in the Amazon rainforest. They are amazingly dangerous, no one has ever seen an apple butler and lived to tell the tale."

"Really?"

"No kid, he's got it wrong," an adult spoke up. It was the shop's manager. "I know of exactly one person who saw one and lived to tell the tale about it. After all, if they killed every witness, how would anyone know about them?"

"I see. That makes sense. So what can you tell me about them mister?"

The shop keeper promptly launched into a tall tale of increasingly improbable events while Harry and Waver watched the gullible kid's eyes grow wider and wider. It was quite amusing to watch- telling newcomers to the magical world increasingly ridiculous stories was a time-honored tradition. Stories which, evidently, sometimes made their way into the mundane world and took on a life of their own. Harry studiously avoided thinking about the fact that Arcueid claimed to have met one of the fungoid horrors…

A few minutes later professor McGonagall entered the shop and beckoned him over.

"Mister Potter, it is time for you to get your wand. Ollivander's is just a few shops down. Come along."

They moved to leave, but before they could Harry felt a weight on his shoulder. An animal he had not seen earlier was sitting on it. It was a black cat with red eyes, two white pom-poms hanging from its neck, and a large black bow on its back. The cat peered at him curiously.

"Len?"

The cat tilted her head down slightly, batted him lightly in the face with her paw, and proceeded to make herself comfortable on his shoulder. No one else seemed to notice the odd interaction and the trio left the cramped shop for the bustle of Diagon Alley once more.

As they left the shop, Harry noticed something quite odd. A man wearing a turban was passed out on the ground1. He smelled strongly of garlic.

* * *

The wand shop professor McGonagall brought them to was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

'Now that can't be right,' Harry thought, 'wands were not invented until around 400 A.D. Either the sign is lying or his family was involved in making mystic codes of similar uses long before wands saw use.'

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; only instead of books there were thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice, "you must be the last of Minerva's group." An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

"How exactly does that work, the wand choosing the wizard that is?" Waver asked from behind them.

"Oh ho! A magus. I haven't met one of your kind in many years." Ollivander said turning his silver gaze on Waver. "Your kind is always so full of questions, always wanting to know more. It's hard to say exactly what makes a wand choose a wizard- it is influenced by the wizard's origin and element- but it is more than that. Wands are forged using magically conductive wood, often specially grown, and a highly magical core. The core usually comes from a powerful magical creature, usually a dragon, unicorn, or phoenix. Because the core is so magical it draws in raw mana and gains a sort of limited sentience. That is why the wand chooses the wizard. It uses its limited sentience to connect to the core of the wizard most suited to it. You can cast spells with the wand of another, but it will never quite work right."

"Interesting. So, how do element and origin affect the type of materials used in the wand?"

"Ah, now that is a fun discussion. Unfortunately, we do not have time to begin it now, young Harry has a wand to find after all. Perhaps we can meet up later to discuss the topic at length? Now Harry, what arm is your wand arm?"

"I am right-handed, so my right arm I supposed."

"Hmm… good. Why don't we try this one to start off with," Ollivander said reaching for one of the long narrow boxes. "Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just give it a wave."

Harry did. Nothing happened. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand and quickly replaced it with another. The second wand was just as quickly removed, as was the third, and the fourth, and the fifth, and on and on until there was a small pile of wands next to him.

"You know, since I know my element and origin, wouldn't it be easier if I…"

"No, no, no! There's no fun in that. I've already eliminated many possibilities and can tell that your origin isn't a standard one. I do love having tricky customers!"

And so it continued, Ollivander would give Harry a wand, he would wave it about to no effect and then they would try again. After another thirty minutes of futility in which the pile continued to grow Ollivander stopped and carefully picked out a slightly different box while muttering "I wonder…"

When Harry held this wand he felt his magic thrum and the wand became warm to the touch. And then it began to burn before suddenly exploding violently showering them both with burnt chips of holly wood.

"Well now, I can't say I've seen a negative reaction that strong before. Most interesting… It seems that the wand for you has not been crafted yet."

"We magi do not know much about wands, but Harry is a special case and his guardian thought something like this might happen and prepared some components for you."

"Oh? And what might these components be?"

"Ones you have never seen before. A branch from the Devouring Forest of Einnashe," Waver pulled out a black branch upon which crimson veins ran. "A hair from the White Princess of the True Ancestors," a long golden hair was brought forth. "And finally a vial of blood donated by the Eclipse Princess of Black Blood," a small vial full of a black liquid. "Do be sure to use these components in their entirety when creating Harry's wand."

Ollivander took the components with shaking hands. "What did you say your element and origin were?"

"I didn't. I'm not sure what my origin is, but my elements are blood and wind."

"Yes, these will do very nicely. Interesting, most interesting. Come back in a month for the finished wand. Such fine components will require time and care to craft. There will be far too much of a rush for new wands to do any work for at least the next week."

* * *

The group, with the exception of Harry and Waver, reconvened at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor after completing their shopping at 2pm. Harry and Waver arrived nearly ten minutes later as they had been in Ollivander's for over an hour. The expedition's other members had already collected their ice cream and were seated around a table outside enjoying the sunshine prompting Harry to order his own frozen treat- dark chocolate and raspberry.

"So," McGonagall started once Harry had reappeared, "what was your favorite part of the day?"

"The bookstore!" Thomas and Hermione immediately answered with great enthusiasm. The large and heavy bags their parents carried gave evidence to their response.

"The apothecary," Harry responded next.

"Oh? That's an unusual answer. Could you tell me why?"

"There are a great number of unusual ingredients that I've never seen before. Figuring out how they work, what their magical properties are, and how to use them in formalcraft will be both fun and challenging."

"What? You plan to do work before school even starts? What kind of monster are you?" Alex questioned in mock-horror.

"The studious kind," Hermione responded promptly. "I, for one, plan to read and memorize all of my books before school starts so I can be ready. There's just so much new to learn!"

"What about you Sarah?" McGonagall interrupted, hoping to cut off any bickering before it could begin.

"Oh, um, I really liked Ollivander's."

"What stood out to you in particular?"

"Well, just the atmosphere you know? All of these old and beautiful wands crammed in this narrow shop brimming with magic and mystery."

"In that case you will love Hogwarts. And what about you, Dean?"

"The magical pet store. Seeing all of the different and interesting new animals was great! I wanted to get the jarvey but me pa didn't approve."

"That, I understand. Especially as jarveys are not allowed in the castle. They are both too rude and too messy. Thinking of pets, did any of you buy one?"

"Well, I found this little cutie." Hermione answered pulling a small orange kitten with a smushed face from a carrier. "I haven't decided on his name yet though."

"Very nice. Cats make wonderful companions."

"I found Len, or rather Len found me." Harry said as the afore mentioned feline jumped from his lap to his shoulder.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she's kinda like my sister's familiar but none of us have seen her in years. Not sure what she was doing in that shop or how she recognized me, but here she is."

"Aw, she's adorable!" Sarah gushed coming over to pet Len.

"Dean," McGonagall asked turning to him, "did you get a pet?"

"Unfortunately no. After pa struck down the jarvey, I wanted the niffler. He's a right cute little bugger, but after hearing about it from the store keep we decided against it. Then I wanted one of those clever rats that were doing tricks, but me pa don't like rats and we have a cat at home that would probably eat 'im so no pet just yet. I'll find me a good one eventually. Do they allow dragons into Hogwarts?"

"No they do not. Dragons tend to be rather large and vicious creatures. Wizards are careful to keep them on reserves far from civilization." Professor McGonagall stood up, "now, before we leave, do any of you have questions you would like answered?"

"Er, yes."

"Go ahead then Thomas."

"What is quidditch? I passed that store a couple of times and was wondering what the big deal was."

"Quidditch is the main wizarding sport in western Europe. It is played on broomstick with teams of 7 and is rather complicated. I would be happy to tell you more, but we are running out of time. Do know that we play it at school, but first years are not allowed to participate as the game can be quite rough. Are there any other questions?"

This time it was Waver who spoke up. "How are the insides of the shops bigger than the outsides?"

"That is the effect of a tricky piece of work called an extension charm. Or in this case, because it is placed on a large object and is permanent, an extension ward. We actually have one covering this entire shopping district as without it there would barely be enough space for a single store between the various muggle buildings surrounding us.

Now, I need to return to the castle and finish preparing for the coming year. Here are your tickets for the train," she handed each student an elaborate ticket with the words 'Platform 9 ¾' on it before continuing. "To reach the platform, simply walk through the dividing column between platforms 9 and 10. It is an illusory barrier with some special charms to prevent anyone who does not know of the platform's existence from noticing it or the people entering it. We have special arrangements for those of you travelling long distances and will be sending additional instructions by owl. I will see you all on September 1st, have a good day."

* * *

 _August 28_ _th_ _, Ollivander's_

Ollivander returned from the back of the shop, moments after Harry arrived to claim his new wand, carrying a long black box.

"It took all of my skill to complete the wand. It may be the finest work my family has ever created. Here, take it."

The wand's base color was pure black- it almost seemed to absorb the light around it and darken the room. Glowing crimson lines ran down its length twisted into complex and elegant floral designs. Near the base, just above the handle, there were numerous runes of power which Harry had never encountered before. The handle was smooth and beautifully carved with the crimson lines radiating out of the base before twisting around the handle forming more runes. The wand fit his hand well, if not quite perfectly as it seemed to have been designed with his growth in mind. Warmth suffused his being as the wand gorged itself on his magic, the runes upon it glowing with barely repressed power. There was a sudden sharp pain in his hand, an odd stinging and numbness. Harry winced and exclaimed: "It bit me!"

"Ah yes, due to the wand's components it is vampiric in nature. It will drain both blood and magic, strengthening its ties to you and those of your blood while likely rejecting all others." Ollivander held up his heavily bandaged hands, "It was very difficult to make, more difficult than I had imagined as it attempted to drain me dry at every opportunity. It is exceedingly voracious. Do be careful with it."

"Him," Harry corrected. "This wand is obviously male in nature despite most of its components being from women. At least I don't have to worry about him draining me dry due to my nature. Figures I'd end up with a vampire wand, why can't my life be normal?"

"Normal is overrated. Besides, I like your new wand. It's cute!" Altrouge interjected.

"When did you get here Alt? I thought I came alone?"

"Just now, and you did. I just wanted to see your new toy. Now, why don't you give the wand a swish. I think it is ready."

Ready it was. An aura of dark crimson surrounded it as the wand thrummed with power. Harry raised the wand and brought it down decisively. As he did, the energy pooled at its rounded tip before releasing all at once when his arm was horizontal. The magic exploded outwards and then condensed into a sphere in the middle of the shop with a great 'whoosh' of sound that was felt more than it was heard. The sphere was a deep crimson color and had circular regions that were both lighter and darker as it emanated its baleful light upon the shop while slowly spinning. Despite its eerie appearance, the light energized and invigorated him. "That's my boy," he heard Altrouge whisper beside him before she pulled him into a gentle hug. A minute later the sphere dissipated and the shop returned to normal.

Altrouge held Harry a minute longer before releasing him and turning to the wand maker who stared mutely at the location of the orb, struck dumb by its appearance and power.

"So," Altrouge asked him, "what else can you tell us about the wand?"

Collecting his wits, Ollivander responded. "Well, it's exactly 13 inches long and unbreakable. Normal wands can bend and, if put under too much stress, break. This wand can do neither. It cannot bend and it cannot break. It is simply not in the wands nature. At the handle, the wand is nearly 1" in diameter and it tapers down to ⅛" by its tip."

"What about the runes?" Harry asked.

"On the handle are runes of absorption, flow, and storage to help the wand draw magic, and in this case blood, from its wielder. The middle half of the wand has runes of power, amplification, and strengthening to increase its potency. Near the tip are runes of control, binding, and restraint, as without them the wand's power output would simply be too great to ever do any delicate magical work. Spells involving power and force, massive wide-scale spells will be easy. Spells requiring subtlety and careful control such as enchantment and many transfiguration spells will be quite hard to master."

"Interesting," Altrouge responded. "So how well does this wand compare to some of the more famous wands such as, say, the Deathstick?"

"It doesn't. This is one of the most powerful wands every crafted, but the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, is in a category of its own. You see, most of that wand's potency is derived from its legend. Its legacy of death and destruction, of never losing a straight duel, that gives it power. Were it a mere wand like any other, this would surpass it. Perhaps in time this wand will garner a legend of its own, but until then it simply falls short."

"The Deathstick is a noble phantasm? How interesting," Altrouge mused to herself. "I had my suspicions about that, thank you for confirming them. I wonder how strong it is… perhaps a C-rank? No, its legend is greater than that. B-rank perhaps? I'll have to track it down and find out." Then, turning back to Ollivander, "Thank you for your hard work, how much do we owe you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Being allowed to work with such fine materials and ensuring my family's name becomes part of what I'm sure will be a legend is payment enough."

"Hmm… I cannot let such a fine work go unpaid. How about this: you may have three of my hairs to use in future wands. Just be very careful with who gets those wands."

Ollivander stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. "What did you say your name was, my lady?"

"Altrouge Brunestud, the Eclipse Princess of Black Blood."

 **-End Chapter 10-**

* * *

1- **Omake** : Quirrell's Phobia

Quirrell was taking a stroll down Diagon Alley, covertly casing Gringotts bank for his upcoming break in. He was just passing by the entrance of The Magical Menagerie when he heard something… disturbing. Quirrell stopped and moved closer to the open door, just to make sure he heard correctly.

"Apple butlers? They are somewhere deep in the Amazon rainforest. They are amazingly dangerous, no one has ever seen an apple butler and lived to tell the tale."

He froze, shivers wracking his body. Apple butlers. Oh merlin, they must have found him and were here for their revenge! All those years ago while travelling through the Amazon and he had only just barely escaped. The nightmares still followed him, refusing to release him from their grasp.

His vision began to blur. He could still hear him, hear his friend. He could hear the long-dead William; hear the words he spoke on that day as they hacked their way through the jungle in high spirits. He could see him now walking beside him, chatting excitedly about the ancient temple they had uncovered that morning. He heard his own voice, as if it was coming from a great distance, or as if the speaker was underwater.

"William, don't you think we should be a bit quieter?"

"Hmm… whatever for?"

"Well… I've heard that apple butlers can be found in this area."

"Apple butlers? Really?"

"Yeah, so we need to be quieter. They are attracted by loud noises."

William snorted, then broke out into raucous laughter. He laughed and laughed and laughed until he was bent over gasping for breath. "Oh Quirinus, didn't anyone tell you? Apple butlers don't exist."

William had barely taken a single step before there was a crashing from above. Quirrell could just make out a large green apple-shaped object before it smashed into his friend and immediately engulfed him. He backed up slowly as the quivering mass began to reform and took on a grotesque appearance that approximated human form. It was composed of mottled blacks and greens with some brown highlights and undulated rhythmically. The darker parts of its appearance were positioned in such a way that it almost appeared to be wearing a dark suit with a bow-tie. The creature was fully formed now and William was gone. It took a slow, shaking step towards him, then another with a bit more confidence and a bit less shaking.

Quirrell pulled out his quivering wand and tried a spell. The jet of red light splashed harmlessly against the monster. He tried again. This time the jet of blue light missed completely. It was getting closer. He tried a fire spell this time- incindio- but it only singed the monster releasing a putrid smell of death and decay. It seemed angry now, or as angry as a sentient fungoid monster could appear to be.

It was too much, Quirrell bolted. He ran from the horror. He ran from the thing that had just consumed his friend. He ran for his life. There was a rumbling to his left, a hill shrouded in vegetation. Quirrell dove forward as another monstrous apple thing crashed out of the undergrowth right behind him. He picked himself up and continued to run. There was more rumbling and crashing, but he had to run. He must escape!

His breath came out in wheezes and black was entering the edges of his vision. More and more and more appeared- an endless horde. He had to get away, he had to! He risked a look back and saw their shambling shapes closing in. Then his foot caught on a root hidden in the leaves and he fell heavily on the ground.

They were before him too now. There was no escape. No escape. no escapE. nO eScApe. NO ESCAPE. He pulled his wand back out in one last desperate attempt to drive them off and unleashed all of his fear, terror, disgust, sorrow, anger, and every last drop of his magical energy into his spell.

"Fiendfyre."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

And so the Apple Butler makes its triumphant return! My original omake had Quirrelmort learning of the Apple Butler for the first time and running off to find it never to appear again, but this one is more interesting. It (the apple butlers) may appear from time to time in the future. I'll leave it up to your imaginations as to how exactly poor Quirrel managed to escape the horrifying apple butlers.

Some of you wanted to see the discussion between Dumbledore and Lorelei. My original intent was to put that in this chapter, but it just didn't work. Perhaps at some point in the future I'll have another Dumbledore-perspective chapter and include the meeting. The most obvious effect of the meeting that is shown in this chapter is Waver's new position. There are others which will appear as the story progresses.


	11. Hogwarts

_**Formerly chapter 10**_

 **Chapter 11: Hogwarts**

Harry's first impression of Platform 9 ¾ was awe. From the wrought-iron archway above him to the gleaming crimson steam train and the reverberating sound of hundreds of voices all packed into this entirely concealed train line, it was all quite overwhelming. There were already many students on the train, he could see them hanging out of the windows, maneuvering heavy trunks into the racks above them, and fighting over seats. All of them appeared to be excited and having a great time, though there were a number of kids around his age that looked rather nervous.

The first two carriages were already mostly full, so Harry decided to head towards the middle of the train. He overheard many snippets of conversation as he walked, such as a round-faced boy looking for his toad and an older boy with dreadlocks showing off what appeared to be a giant tarantula, but Harry studiously ignored them. Under no circumstances did he want to be mobbed once more by the admiring public, which they would if he stopped and someone recognized him. So to the train it was, at a dignified pace because a magus did not run. He was most certainly walking at a measured pace, no matter what anyone said to the contrary!

The train itself was luxurious and was composed of a large number of compartments, each usually seating about six (but spelled to expand and allow groups of up to 12), with very comfortable looking couches on either side. A sliding glass door, perhaps the most modern part of the train, if not the wizarding world as a whole, closed off the compartments. Curtains could also be pulled for privacy. All in all, it was a very nice arrangement.

About half way down his chosen car, Harry found a compartment with only two occupants. On the left side of the compartment was a blond girl his age. She was of average height, had long blond hair, blue-grey eyes, and sat perfectly straight giving her appearance an aristocratic air. Then her companion, a taller girl with short brown hair and brown eyes, said something and she broke down and began giggling instantly shattering her aristocratic appearance. Harry opened the door to their compartment, and as he did so the blond quickly schooled her features.

'She obviously has experience with politics,' Harry thought, 'probably from an old pureblood family.'

"Hello, would you mind if I sat with you fine ladies?" He asked after making his observation.

"That depends on who is asking," the blond replied, there was a calculating look in her eyes.

"My apologies, I am Harry Potter Brunestud."

"Very well mister Brunestud, you may join us. I am Daphne Greengrass and my companion is Tracey Davis."

"Harry Potter? Are you that Harry Potter?" The now named Tracey exclaimed bouncing in her seat.

"I am indeed," Harry responded as he entered the compartment.

"Brunestud?"

"My adoptive family."

"Ah. So, where's your trun… oh."

Before Tracey could even finished her question, Harry had pulled the shrunken trunk out of his pocket, expanded it, and levitated it into place on a rack. Her mouth remained open until Daphne reached over and manually closed it with an audible click.

"So, mister Potter," Tracey began leaning forward towards him, "there have been many stories about you and your activities over the years, care to comment on them?"

However, before they could continue their conversation, the train lurched into motion and the door was shoved open by a red-haired boy with lots of freckles. There was dirt on his nose.

"Is anyone else sitting there?" He asked, pointing at the seat next to Harry, "Everywhere else is full."

"No its not," Tracey promptly responded. "My brother says that there's always a couple of empty compartments near the end of the train. It is meant to carry a thousand students to school but Hogwarts currently does not even have half that many. You simply need to look harder."

The boy's ears turned pink at being called out and he began fidgeting under the collective stares of the compartment's three occupants. "Erm, well," he began while fidgeting even more, "I was hoping to get to know some of my classmates on the train, I don't really know anyone here besides my brothers."

"You have older brothers?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, five of them. Er, two have graduated already, one is in fifth year and a prefect, and there are the troublemaking twins in third year. I also have a little sister who will be starting next year."

"Wow, I've always wanted siblings. I mean, I suppose kinda have a sibling. It depends on how you look at things. Alt is my guardian and adoptive mother, but regularly acts her apparent age and is more like a sibling. It really depends on her mood. And her sister Arc is technically my aunt, sorta, as Arc and Alt aren't exactly blood related, but has claimed me as her little brother though she usually acts like a younger sibling instead, especially if she's on sugar, or caffeine, or both." Harry shuddered at a memory, "Trust me, you do not want to actually see what she is like on caffeine. My greatest regret is that I introduced her to coffee…" Harry trailed off noticing that the others were becoming increasingly confused as he rambled. "Sorry, I'm not making much sense am I? Let's just say that my family is complicated and leave it at that. What about you miss Greengrass?"

"Well I have a younger sister, Astoria, and love her to death. I wish I had a brother as well but my parents only wanted two kids."

"Trust me Daph, you do not want a brother," Tracey responded. "He's such a pain! Always going on and on about quidditch and running off with his friends leaving me behind."

"What's wrong with quidditch?" Ron angrily responded.

"Nothing, nothing. It's just that he never talks about anything else! A little quidditch is ok, but going on about it for hours and hours? Ugh, it's a nightmare. Anyway, I'm Tracey Davis."

"Daphne Greengrass. You must be one of the Weasley brood."

"Err, yeah, I'm Ron," he responded, looking a little put off.

"And I'm Harry Potter Brunestud."

"Wow, are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

He nodded.

"And have you really got… you know," he pointed at Harry's forehead.

"I did have a scar, but it was healed years ago. Turns out there was some nasty dark magic clinging to it which kept it from healing so I had it exorcised."

"Oh. Well do you remember it any?"

"It?"

"I mean, when You-Know-Who..."

"Murdered his parents?" Daphne interjected sharply.

Ron turned pink again and looked down.

"Why don't you go find someone else to make friends with. It was nice meeting you Ron." Tracey said, diplomatically dismissing the Weasley before Daphne had a chance to start a tirade.

Ron wilted and turned with slumped shoulders and began to leave when Harry spoke up. "You know; I think you would get along well with a boy I met while shopping in Diagon Alley. His name is Thomas Smith, he's a larger boy with short brown hair and glasses. He was quite interested in both quidditch and magic as he grew up in a mundane family, I'm sure that Thomas would enjoy your company."

Ron immediately perked up, muttered a quiet "thanks" and shuffled out.

"So," Tracey started, "before we were interrupted you were going to comment on the various stories that have been circulating about you."

"You mean: is there any truth to the stories? No, not really," Harry replied with a laugh. "Well, mostly. I've not been running off and defeating dark wizards, rescuing princesses, wrestling trolls, or slaying dragons. Those stories are pure fantasy. Well, except for the troll bit, but that's mostly Prim."

"Prim?" Asked Tracey.

"Yes, Prim," Harry replied.

"And who is Prim?" Tracey prompted.

"You should be asking 'what is Prim' instead," Harry responded.

"Ok then… what is prim?" Tracey was beginning to become annoyed.

"My pet," was Harry's succinct reply.

"Your pet wrestles trolls?" Tracey continued incredulously.

"Occasionally when Prim is in a playful mood, yes. If she's not, well that ends quite badly for the trolls."

"What kind of pet can wrestle trolls!"

"Mine."

"And what, exactly, is your pet?"

"Very fuzzy," Harry replied seriously.

"What _kind_ of fuzzy is this pet?" Tracey grit out.

"Prim is The Great Fuzzy."

"ENOUGH!" Daphne yelled, unable to maintain her silence when such stupidity could be found in the conversation. "What kind of bloody animal is this pet?"

There was a brief moment of shocked silence at her outburst, in which Daphne shrunk back under the combined stares of Harry and Tracey, her cheeks dusted lightly with pink.

"Daphne! How could you! Such foul language, what would your parents think!" Tracey said appearing to be aghast. Daphne's blush darkened.

Tracey then moved next to her friend, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, wiped an imaginary tear from her eye, and continued: "Oh Daphne, you won't believe how happy this makes me. My best friend has finally learned how to swear. I'm so bloody pleased right now; I could kiss you. My Daph is growing up at last."

"Please don't," Daphne protested weakly.

"So," Tracey started, releasing her embarrassed friend and turning back to Harry, "as our most eminent Daph was saying before unleashing her inner darkness upon the world, exactly what kind of animal is this mysteriously fuzzy pet of yours?"

"Oooh you want to know what kind of _animal_ my pet is. Prim's a dog. Sorta."

"A dog?" Daphne repeated incredulously as she recovered from her earlier embarrassment, "A dog that wrestles with trolls? And what do you mean by 'Sorta'?!"

"To be fair, Prim is a very big dog."

Daphne and Tracey stared blankly back at Harry.

"A very, VERY big dog."

"Whatever you say bub," said the incredulous Tracey while rolling her eyes. Daphne, being the subtle one, bravely resisted the urge to also roll her eyes.

"So," Tracey continued after an awkward minute of silence, "Seeing as the stories are false, where have you been all these years?"

"I was raised by a vampire," Harry promptly replied.

"What?" Daphne exclaimed, broken out of her calm façade once more, this time by shock.

"That was a joke. I was not actually raised by a vampire."

"Oh thank goodness."

"That's right; he was raised by four vampires," a new female voice cut in, "I am one of them."

Sure enough, when Harry turned to his left he found Altrouge sitting next to him staring out the window as the English country side rushed by. She turned towards his new friends making them visibly flinch when they met her crimson eyes. A moment later they shook themselves out of their stupor and scrambled for their wands.

"T-tell us how you got in here!" Daphne demanded, but there was an audible quiver in her voice.

"Zelretch?" Harry asked, turning to her.

"No actually, I arrived using my own abilities. I've been taking lessons." She stated proudly.

"So Zelretch."

Altrouge pouted.

"So Alt, what brings you here this fine morning?"

"Zelretch just left on one of his multi-dimensional adventures, Arcueid ran off to Tibet to search for the abominable snowman, Lorelei is busy with paperwork, I finished my book some time ago, it's far too quiet at the house, Prim is off playing with the trolls again, and I'm hungry."

"You are bored then."

"Exactly! I'm also hungry."

"But you ate yesterday!"

"So?"

"Didn't you just say this morning, before I left, that you could last for an entire year before you needed to eat again?"

"Don't wanna," Altrouge's pout deepened.

"You can act like such a child Alt. I swear, if I didn't know your actual age…"

"Who told you that?" Altrouge hissed angrily as she jumped up and grabbed Harry's collar.

"Zelretch, who else?"

"It seems the old fool requires more… disciplining."

 _Somewhere across space and time Zelretch began to tremble in fear._

Sitting back down, ignoring the two frightened first years, Altrouge imperiously commanded "Feed me."

"As you wish your majesty," Harry replied with a sigh rolling up his sleeve and holding out his arm. Altrouge immediately latched onto it.

A minute of stunned silence later, Tracey timidly spoke, "You do know that you have a vampire attached to your arm, right?"

"Pay no attention to the leech," Altrouge glared at Harry. "She can be cranky when hungry or bored."

"But vampire on your arm… Are you sure you are ok? Aren't their bites supposed to be incurable, like werewolf bites?"

"My blood replenishes very rapidly so it's fine, and I won't turn into a vampire unless she wants me to or drains my blood completely, so you do not need to worry about that. Besides, she's very careful to avoid drinking faster than I can regenerate," Harry stated while petting Altrouge's head with his free hand. "Alt has raised me since my parents died, she'd never do anything that would endanger me."

The girls exchanged a look of concern, then Tracey asked, "So uh… what is it like being raised by a vampire? I mean, you are not a vampire yourself, are you?"

"What is it like being raised by a human? It's all I've really known so I can't compare them for you. And no, I am not a vampire. Vampires don't age and I don't want to be forever stuck an 11-year-old. I would say that is why Alt looks like a teen, but she was born a vampire so I'm not exactly sure why she isn't YOWCH! Altrouge, don't bite like that!"

"You shouln' talk abou a lady's age," was her muffled reply as she glared balefully up at Harry.

"What do you mean by 'vampires don't age'? Of course vampires age! They just do so rather slowly."

"Oh right, sorry I forgot. Wizarding vampires age and can have children with some difficulty, but Alt is a different kind."

Before Harry could explain the vast differences between wizarding vampires and dead apostles there was a knock at the door of the compartment and the round-faced boy that Harry had spotted earlier that day at the station came in.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."

He left.

"That was a bit odd," Tracey began, "he didn't seem to notice the vamp… where'd she go?"

"Huh? She's still here attached to my arm, what do you… Altrouge why are you invisible? Actually, how are you invisible?"

There was no answer. A few minutes later Harry felt her detach from his arm before she returned to the visible spectrum. When she did, Altrouge could be seen daintily dabbing her mouth with a bright red handkerchief. When she was done, she turned back to the others in the compartment and asked, "I'm sorry, did someone ask me a question?"

Before anyone was able to respond, the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a familiar girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth. It took Harry a moment to place her as one of the girls that had been at Diagon Alley with him.

"A toad? I'll catch it for you," Altrouge replied. A ripple appeared in the air before her and, after a minute, she stuck her hand into the ripple and it vanished until it looked like she had nothing below the elbow of her left arm. "Gotcha!" She exclaimed, and brought her hand back out with a wriggling dark green toad in it.

"Er, no, that one's not mine, sorry." Altrouge shrugged, tossed the toad over her shoulder where it vanished into thin air, and reached back into the void. A muffle scream and cry of "Get it off me! Get it off!" could be heard from a few compartments down.

"What about this one?" Neville shook his head and Altrouge tossed the speckled black toad into the air where it again disappeared. Harry and his companions carefully ignored the cries of "oh merlin not another one" and "it's in my food, get it out, get it out!" that were floating down the train car.

A third attempt produced a pair of neon pink toads that were immediately discarded in disgust. The shrieks of "my eyes!" and "the goggles, they do nothing!" continued to increase in volume.

The fourth toad was enormous and a vibrant orange and strangely was wearing a blue jacket. It was immediately dropped toward the floor where it vanished through a glowing blue portal. This time the cry of grief that wafted down the corridor could be clearly understood and seemed to be: "Noooooooooooo Sir Fluffykins the Magnificent! My poor darling tarantula… why did it have to be toads?"

Six toads and a frog later ("I promise I'll be good, just please make this nightmare end!") and the correct toad had finally been procured. It was rather brown, squat, and ugly.

"Trevor! Oh thank you so much miss!"

"Wow! What kind of magic was that? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice but I've never heard of anything like that before, and wandless too! Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?" She said all this very fast.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass, and my companion is Tracey Davis."

"Hello Hermione," Tracey said brightly.

"I'm Harry Potter Brunestud, I see we meet again."

"Are you really?" said Hermione apparently forgetting their previous meeting in her excitement. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. Wait, again?"

"Yes, again. We visited Diagon Alley together during the summer. Did you forget in your excitement over the bookstore?"

Hermione looked down sheepishly before Harry continued: "You know; you really shouldn't believe everything the books tell you. Alt and I have been reading the Harry Potter Adventures series once we learned they existed, they are quite fanciful and somewhat fun to read but nowhere near being true. As for the rest of the books that mention me, the ones you just brought up, I'm pretty sure only Alt and my deceased parents know exactly what happened that night and she claims they were completely wrong."

"Really?" Hermione looked affronted at this, as if the books being false were a personal attack upon her. "Well, do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad..."

"Gryffindor?" Daphne scoffed, "Why would anyone want to be part of that house? It's full of people who jump before they look. Idiots the lot of them. Anyway, Tracey and me are certainly going to be in Slytherin."

"I've heard some about the houses but I think I will just let the chips fall where they may as I don't have much of a preference," was Harry's answer.

"And you? Oh, you must be an older student. What year are you in? What house are you in? Oh, sorry, I haven't gotten your name yet… are those crimson eyes?" Were all asked in quick succession when Hermione re-noticed Altrouge, who had been sitting quietly next to the window watching the proceedings after rescuing Trevor with a bemused expression. Poor Neville, who had been about to speak up when Hermione began firing off questions, instead just took a seat in the corner and watched quietly.

"I am Altrouge Brunestud, and I am not a student at all, although I did attend Durmstrang at one point. As for my eyes, I am a dead apostle."

"A dead apostle?" Hermione questioned, scrunching up her nose, "sounds… Icky."

Surprisingly it was Daphne who responded. She was white as a sheet and shaking. "Dead apostles are a type of vampire, a very powerful type of vampire. Around 1600 one of my family was stupid enough to antagonize one. He vanished and was presumed dead, but almost 60 years later returned with an undead legion at his back and wreaked havoc upon the Isles. The worst part of the whole ordeal was how hard it was to kill the monster. Nothing seemed to work, not even the killing curse, he would just instantly regenerate back to full health. It took 20 wizards simultaneously casting Fiendfyre to finally bring him down and it came at a massive cost: it caused The Great Fire of London in 1666."

"I'm surprised the Mages' Association left it to the wizards to deal with him," said Harry. "Then again, they may have decided that since the wizards were at fault for causing the situation, they weren't going to clean up the mess."

Harry's classmates had obviously not heard of the Association, but before he could educate them the still pale Daphne continued: "Few outside of my family remember this tale, of the danger and power of the apostles. And while many details have been lost to time, one has not. The vampire my foolish ancestor antagonized went by the name of Altrouge Brunestud."

As one, the children within the compartment turned to Altrouge with wide eyes and much trembling.

"Hmm… Nope, sorry, your story doesn't ring a bell. Then again, he was probably so inconsequential that I forgot him. And really, it's not my fault that the wizards who defeated him decided to go full retard and cast 20 simultaneous fiendfyres near a large wooden city. That was all them."

The children were not reassured. But before their terror could grow out of hand, the lunch trolley arrived and the mood was ruined.

"Ooh, wizarding sweets! It's been a while since I've had some of these." Then, turning to the unfazed Harry and placing a hand on his shoulder she continued: "Harry I have a task of grave importance for you."

* * *

After the tasty interlude, in which it was surprisingly hard to make Hermione try the sweets as her parents were dentists, the group of new friends sat in silence contemplating whether they wanted another chocolate frog or take a gamble with Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Before any of them could make an attempt to restart the conversation, the door to their compartment was slammed open by a pale boy who was flanked by a pair of thickset and mean looking boys who seemed rather more like bodyguards than students.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the thickset boy, trying to decide whether they had some troll in their ancestry.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"You know Malfoy, you really should knock," Daphne said turning up her nose with a sniff, her voice cutting across the compartment. "I thought your parents raised you to be better than that."

"Draco Malfoy? The Draco who wet his bed until the age of 8? The Draco who's first flying lesson left him stuck at the top of a tall tree? The Draco who runs off to his father whenever anything does not go his way? The Draco who had his mummy kiss an owie on his knee after falling of a horse last year? Are you that Draco Malfoy?" Tracey asked, with utmost innocence.

A tinge of pink appeared on Malfoy's pale cheeks and he glared angrily at the two girls. "You filthy blood traitors! I'm going to…"

"Tell your father about this? Boo-hoo. Now get lost Draco, we don't want your kind in here!"

Malfoy turned and strode out, slamming the door once more behind him.

"Was that really necessary?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely. Draco's an insufferable child who can't do anything on his own. He was almost literally born with a silver spoon in his mouth and is terribly spoiled. His mere presence significantly drops the collective intelligence of whatever room he happens to be in, and don't even get me started on dumb and dumber," Daphne responded with a groan.

"His dad not only bribed his way out of prison after the last war but is both competitor and antagonist to the Greengrass family in business and politics," Tracey informed them.

"He's quite a nasty person," Neville said speaking up for the first time since he regained his toad. "Malfoy is not the sort you want to be friends with. Unfortunately for us, he is in our year and he'll probably be a major annoyance."

"So Neville, why don't you tell us about yourself?" Tracey asked.

"Um… well…" he began, instantly retreating in on himself. "What do you want to know?"

"How about your likes, dislikes, a little about your family, and goal for the future?"

"Uh, okay. I'm, uh, Neville Longbottom, I like magical plants and gardening. I dislike bullies like Malfoy and people who believe they are above the rules. I live with my gran, she's quite strict, and have several aunts, uncles, and cousins. Goal for the future? I'm just glad I have enough magic to go to Hogwarts. We were not sure until the letter arrived."

"Nice to meet you Neville. Now why don't you share about yourself Hermione?"

"Well, as I already said, I am Hermione Granger. I love books, reading, magic, books, rules, fuzzy things, books, and studying."

"She's a Ravenclaw for sure," Tracey stage whispered to Daphne.

"Silence from the peanut gallery. As I was saying, for dislikes, well… bullies like that Malfoy boy are certainly one. Hmm… I like a lot of things but don't dislike that many. I'm an only child and my parents are dentists. No cousins either. My dreams? I don't know at the moment. To learn everything I can about magic I guess. Tracey? Since you oh so rudely interrupted me, you can go next."

"Oh very well. I'm Tracey Davis, I like my family and best friend," Tracey began, throwing her arm around Daphne who immediately began attempting to escape. "I like having fun and making friends and hope to learn the art of pranking from the greatness that is the Weasley twins." At this Daphne groaned loudly and buried her face in her hands. Harry thought that he could make out a quiet 'kill me now' from her. "As for dislikes, I don't like those who look down on others for any reason, but especially blood purity. I think the whole thing is just stupid. My mum's a muggleborn and my dad's a pureblood. I have an older brother in Ravenclaw named Roger who is much too fond of quidditch. The rest of my family can go die for all I care."

"They are blood supremacists of the worst kind," Daphne helpfully explained.

"As for my goals, I want to get back at those jerks in my family who shun me mum, preferably via epic pranks. I also want to eliminate the whole 'blood supremacy' prejudice. Your turn Daphne."

"Very well, I'm Daphne Greengrass, heir to the Greengrass family. I love my little sister, my friends, and learning magic. I dislike idiots, bigots, braggarts, and those who supported the dark lord. Most of my relatives are bigots, but I must associate with them to keep up appearances. It's such a pain… My goal for the future is to, together with Tracey, take the government by storm and eliminate both the blood supremacy and patriarchal nature of our society. Harry?"

"As you all know; I am Harry Potter Brunestud. I was adopted by Altrouge Brunestud, the one drooling on my shoulder because of her sugar induced coma. I like my family, friends, pets, learning magecraft, reading, and visiting new places. I dislike the fact that I am famous for something I did not do; it was my mother's ability that deflected the curse, not 15-month-old me. I dislike the political games played by magi in the Clock Tower, bigots, bullies, and the Einzbern family. My family consists of Arcueid, who is basically a sister even though she is officially my aunt, Zelretch, who my basically grandfather, and Altrouge my adoptive mother. Once I am strong enough, I will rescue my best friend Illya from her family, the Einzberns, master my magecraft, and some day have a large family of my own."

"What is magecraft?" Hermione immediately asked once Harry was finished speaking.

"Well, it is a different form of magic, one practiced by an entirely separate society known as 'The Moonlit World.'"

* * *

It was after sunset, the sky a deep purple sprinkled with stars, when the train finally arrived at its destination. The platform was small, far less impressive than platform 9 ¾ had been, and it was rapidly filled by students of all ages wearing black robes who shivered in the cool breeze. What little could be seen of the countryside in the deepening gloom suggested that they had come to a wilderness area full of mountains and forests.

While the five new friends attempted to orient themselves, a lantern appeared bobbing over the heads of the crowd. A deep voice called out "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

There was a very large man with a hairy face holding the lantern. "That's Hagrid, the gamekeeper," Neville helpfully informed them.

After a few minutes when the crowd, minus first years, had dispersed, Hagrid said: "C'mon, follow me, any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

And with that he started down what appeared to be a steep and narrow path. It was very dark to either side, and not much could be made out. The stars were also invisible, so Harry guessed they were surrounded by trees. No one spoke much as the many students were far too busy attempting to stay on their feet to do so.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened up on the edge of a great black lake. Upon this lake the stars above were mirrored, dipping and bobbing as small waves ran across the water. On the opposite side, atop a small mountain, was a massive castle whose windows sparkled much like the stars behind. Numerous towers and turrets could be made out against the night sky. It was, Harry thought, the most impressive building he had seen.

Guiding the first years' attention to a fleet of small boats by the shore, Hagrid called out "No more'n four to a boat," and they began to clamber in. Harry's group, being composed of five members, found themselves in a dilemma. After a brief discussion they split by gender. Harry and Neville clambered into one of the little boats and were soon joined by Ron and Thomas.

Once everyone had seated themselves the fleet moved off all at once, gliding across the cold, dark lake. No one spoke much as the boats travelled, they were far too busy staring up at the behemoth above them. The great castle towered over them as they sailed towards the cliffs on which it stood.

"Heads down!" Yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto a rocky shore. Water gently lapped upon the shore and the new students stared about at the torch-lit cavern.

Then, after Hagrid checked to make sure everyone had made it, they clambered up a long passageway in the rock following Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge oak front door.

"Everyone here? Good," Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. The door swung open at once revealing Professor McGonagall in emerald green robes.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

Pulling the door wide, she ushered the first years inside. The entrance hall was enormous, Harry's house could fit within it and have room to spare. There were torches blazing along the stone walls, their lack of smoke indicating that the fire was magical in nature. Far above, the walls melted into shadow- the ceiling could not be seen. To the right was a doorway from which the drone of hundreds of voices could be heard- it seemed that the rest of the school had already arrived. Directly ahead was a magnificent marble staircase that led to the castle's upper levels.

They followed the Professor across the flagged stone floor to a small antechamber which the new students crowded into, standing closer together than they normally would have, many peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." She left the chamber.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry overheard Thomas asked Ron. Most of the other students in the room were listening intently for the answer.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

"My older brother said that we had to wrestle a troll!" Tracey piped up, a mischievous grin on her lips. The panic that she set off among the students was glorious. That the panic increased further when ghosts floated into the room until it was bordering on hysteria was even better. The ghosts had been talking amongst themselves as they floated into the room, but seeing the state of the frantic first years caused the chatter to cease as they quickly fled. Harry caught a few concerned glances from one who appeared to be a fat little monk.

A minute later Professor McGonagall returned and, upon finding the first years panicking, promptly cast a silencing spell upon them and waited for them to notice her.

A moment later and they did, so she spoke in a sharp voice, "Move along now, the sorting ceremony is about to start. Now, form a line, and follow me."

And with that she strode out of the chamber, back across the entrance hall, and through the double doors into the Great Hall.

The hall was magnificent. It was lit by thousands upon thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the many teachers, including Harry's magecraft tutor Waver, were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Above them was a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars as it had become fully dark since their arrival by train. Harry heard Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

'Why bewitch it when it could simply be spelled transparent?' Harry thought, 'Wizards… so frivolous with their magic that they ignore the simplest and most logical way to do things.'

While Harry was contemplating the lack of sense all wizards seemed to share, Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and then the hat began to _sing_ of all things. Harry carefully ignored it.

When it had finished, the whole hall broke into applause. The hat then bowed (how did it do that? It's a hat!) to each of the tables before becoming still once more. McGonagall then stepped forward with a long roll of parchment and said, "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down.

A moments pause - "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

"Anderson, Edward!" "SLYTHERIN!" shouted the hat after a few seconds, and Edward walked sedately to the second table from the right to some scattered polite applause.

"Bones, Susan!" "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat once more, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!" "RAVENCLAW!" The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers.

Then it was his turn, "Brunestud, Harry Potter." He stepped up hearing whispers suddenly break out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

"What did she mean by 'Brunestud'?"

Then the hat slid down over his eyes as he sat on the stool, and for a moment there was silence.

'My, my, now this is interesting,' said a voice. 'It has been centuries since a true magus wore me.'

'True magus?'

'Indeed. There are some families, such as your own, the Potters, that have maintained the use of magecraft, but it was never more than supplementary to their wizardry. There are even more with the potential to do so but remain ignorant of these talents. You are the first in many years to focus on magecraft and merely supplement with wizardry. Now… where to put you?

Hmmm… You certainly are a tricky one. Had you been a typical magus, Slytherin would have been an easy choice because of their endless ambition. You do have that in spades, but your ambition is not to simply gain power for power's sake, but rather power for the sake of others. Particularly for that lost friend of yours. Going with that, you have a very strong desire to learn. Knowledge is power after all, as you magi know well, so Ravenclaw would also be a good fit. But that is not all, there is plenty of courage to go around. You will not hesitate to rush headlong into danger if it is the right thing to do, which would make Gryffindor himself proud. However, we cannot keep out your admirable work ethic and immense loyalty towards those you consider friends and family, few and inhuman though they may be… Honestly you would fit well in any house. Do you have a preference young magus?'

'If Slytherin is anything like the Clock Tower, full of politics and intrigue, I would prefer to avoid it. I was hoping to be able to relax on that front while here. As for the other three, I am sure that you, being a sentient magical artifact a thousand years old which has sorted countless wizards, would know better than me.'

'Flattery will get you everywhere young magus. Very well then, you had better be…'

 **-End Chapter 11-**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

And now we finally arrive at Hogwarts. Ron will not be part of the group, but has instead become friends with the muggleborn boys Thomas and Alex (OC's that showed up last chapter). I had originally planned for him to be rude and antagonistic, like Draco, but that sort of response would be out of character. Instead Daphne decides she does not want him in the group and Harry points him in the direction of a different set of friends. I do not yet know exactly where Ron will stand in the story (the Harry-Ron-Hermione trio having been changed to Harry-Daphne-Tracey-Hermione-Neville), we will just have to see what Ron ends up doing. While I won't tell you which house Harry will be in until next time (feel free to guess), you should know that the quintet of friends will not be together in the same house.

There are a number of short passages taken directly from the book- mostly introductions to new characters (minus Daphne and Tracey as they never appear in the books) as well as McGonagall's speech to the first years. J.K.R. did a wonderful job in her books and these parts would be more or less unchanged by the events that caused this AU. The farther along the story gets, the more things will diverge until they are completely different (5th year, at the latest, will be entirely different than the books).

About the incoming class: I have always felt that Hogwarts was meant to hold about 1000 students. Considering the war, we can assume there are perhaps 400-500 currently in attendance. That breaks down to between 60 and 70 students in each year. JKR has Harry's year having only 40 students. If this was true, there would only be about 280 students which is much less than the number that appear to be attending Hogwarts. For the sake of this story, go ahead and assume that the extra 20-30 students in every class are muggleborn. Why? The war only really affected wizards and wizarding families. It should have no effect on the numbers of new muggleborn witches and wizards as they would not have been identified as magical before its conclusion. Combine this with the rapidly increasing muggle population and you get a Hogwarts that is at least 50% muggleborn, if not more. This is so many muggleborn students that some of them have to be sorted into Slytherin, if they were not then the house of the snakes would be half the size of every other house. This massive influx of muggleborn students is helping to drive blood prejudices, but it will also cause massive societal changes in the wizarding world as they age. Had the war never happened, class sizes would be around 140-150 (letting Hogwarts have its full 1000 students). There would be the same number of muggleborn students- 40 to 45 in each year- but that puts them at about 30% of the student population instead of closer to 60% as they are now.

One last thought: The Elder Wand. Some of you were wondering how the wielder of a noble phantasm wand with the property "never loses a duel" (Grindewald) could have lost to Dumbledore. Answer: it wasn't a duel. The property about dueling only applies to some very specific circumstances- a 1v1 magical duel between mature wizards. In all other cases it is merely a very potent power booster. Why is that? Well you can't expect any old 1st year to walk up with the deathstick knowing only levitation charms and how to turn a matchstick into a needle and then best one of their teachers in a duel. The power increase the wand gives simply isn't enough to compensate for the difference in skill and knowledge. The other part- 1v1- specifies that the property only applies if there is a single opponent. If there are more it is a fight or battle. It still provides a substantial power boost, but no longer gives its wielder a guaranteed win (or at least not a loss). Dumbledore, when he confronted and dueled Grindewald, did not do so alone. He arrived with a strike team of powerful wizards. The others were quickly defeated, but it was enough to negate the "duel" property of the Elder Wand allowing Dumbledore to defeat Grindewald.


	12. Feast

**A brief summary of the story below to remind readers about the events that have taken place:**

 _Harry is adopted and raised by Altrouge Brunestud instead of the Dursleys. His adorable behavior is slowly causing her to care about other people again for reasons beyond alleviating her boredom (usually through indiscriminate slaughter). Harry is raised in the Swiss Alps alongside Arceuid, Primate Murder, Zelretch, and his now vampiric teacher Lorelei. It is discovered that he has excellent qualities for magecraft along with an unusual pair of elements (wind/blood- was originally blood element/blood origin but I feel this fits better), but his origin appears to be an unusual one and remains unknown. During this time the Einzberns show up, remove his horcrux, and he befriends Illya and they grow very close. Illya then disappears from his life following the 4th war (which proceeds nearly the same as in canon, but occurs in 1988. The main difference being that Kiritsugu has a grudge against Archibald for events that took place in chapter 8 and utterly destroys him). This drives the young Harry into extensive training, so that he can become strong enough to reunite with his friend._

 _Meanwhile, Dumbledore discovers several mistakes that he had made and makes some moves to rectify them, somehow causing Sirius to become a respectable person in the process (and also not in prison). Eventually he finds out about Harry hanging out with the magi and strikes a deal with Lorelei to have him attend Hogwarts. Last chapter, Harry met several people on the Hogwarts Express befriending some of them and is in the process of being sorted._

 _ **Formerly Chapter 11**_

 **Chapter 12: Feast**

 _'Flattery will get you everywhere young magus. Very well then, you had better be…'_

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

There was a moment of stunned silence as the hall attempted to digest the information. Hufflepuff? Harry Potter was going to Hufflepuff? Something must be terribly wrong. Then the table on the right side of the great hall broke out in wild celebration. Hufflepuff, long considered the least of the four houses, finally had something they could be proud of.

Harry walked over and sat down next to an older boy who introduced himself as Cedric Diggory. He ignored most of the remaining sorting, which took nearly an hour as there were 72 students to sort, but paid attention to those he knew.

Daphne and Tracey went to Slytherin, as they had predicted. Malfoy did as well, much to their displeasure. Hermione was immediately sorted into Ravenclaw as was Alex Keefe. Sarah Davies took a little longer but also became a Ravenclaw, while Neville joined Harry in Hufflepuff. Meanwhile, the Weasley boy, Thomas Smith, and Dean Thomas were sorted into Gryffindor.

Eventually, after a Zabini, Blaise, was sorted into Slytherin, Professor McGonagall put the hat away and a very old wizard with oddly colorful robes got to his feet and spoke. "Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Everyone clapped and cheered and suddenly there was food. There were mountains of food. There were plates with precarious stacks of roast chicken, roast beef, pork chops, lamb chops, steak, fish and chips, piles of potatoes (boiled and fried, but strangely not mashed), hundreds of sausages, bowls of fried mushrooms, peas, carrots, Yorkshire pudding, tomatoes, gravy, meat pastys, and every other sort of British food imaginable with the exception of haggis. No wizards like haggis, not even the Scottish ones. There was, unfortunately, far less variety in drinks. Most appeared to be some odd sweet concoction called "pumpkin juice". The hundreds of students in the hall were quickly piling their golden plates full so Harry followed suit.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Cedric commented from beside him.

"It is. Why is there so much food? Surely it won't all be eaten in this meal!"

"Have you ever seen how much a teenage boy can eat? They have black holes for stomachs and there are over 200 of them in this hall. I'd be surprised if much food was left at the end of the feast," a familiar voice to Harry's left said.

It was Altrouge. She must have returned sometime during the sorting as she was eating a steak. Strangely, no one else seemed to notice her presence.

"Hmm… It's not bad, somewhat overcooked, but not great either. Your food is far better. The kitchen elves could probably use some instruction on proper cooking."

"Any steak cooked for over a minute is overcooked to you Alt. Some of us like them medium rare instead of almost raw. Though you do have a point, most of the food was cooked a little too long. Do you know if the kitchen uses stoves or magic for its cooking?"

"Probably magic," she replied, "which would explain the quality. Food always turns out better if cooked in the mundane fashion. I doubt wizards would even walk if there was a spell to do it for them."

"Well they do seem to be both lazy and overly reliant on magic. I have yet to see an athletic wizard," Harry replied.

"There are some, but not many, mostly because there are only a few wizarding sports. As far as I know it primarily consists of quidditch and dueling." Then, leaning behind Harry, Altrouge called, "Hey Cedric, what wizarding sports are there?"

"Well there is quidditch of course, and dueling… there are board games and card games as well as a few types of racing. I think that's it, why do you ask?"

"Because there are hundreds of sports in the mundane world. It's just weird seeing how few sports wizards have," Harry replied before focusing on his food.

"Several of the muggleborn students tried to start up a football club a few years ago, but it never really caught on," A slightly older girl across the table added.

"Well that's not hard to explain," the boy sitting next to Cedric said. "It's just so… mundane. Why play a game with a ball on the ground when you could be doing it in the air? Why play a normal card game when you could have your cards explode if you misplay? Why play regular chess when you can play wizard chess where the pieces brutally murder each other and sometimes won't follow your orders. It's just so much more interesting."

"But still, you'd think there would be a bit more variety especially with so many more options," Harry commented.

"Do remember," the girl across from him spoke up again, "that there are far fewer wizards than muggles. I'm sure that many other games were created, but they just never caught on. I'm Anne Hathaway, third year," she finished, reaching across the table to shake his hand.

"And I'm Wilhelm Lorenz, fifth year. But please, just call me Will, not to be confused with the other fifth-year Will, the American, over in Ravenclaw. My grandpa and grandma fled Germany when Grindewald was coming to power and my family has stubbornly kept to German naming conventions to 'remember our roots'."

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Harry Potter Brunestud, my second name being from my adopted family," he responded while pointing at Altrouge. "Now, I do believe we were talking about sports. I'm not too familiar with wizarding sports, could you tell me about the most popular ones?"

"Certainly," Will replied. "The most popular, of course, is quidditch. It is also one of the oldest currently played, being nearly 1000 years old. In it, two teams of seven face off in the air and are split between several different positions. There is a keeper who guards the three hoops through which the three chasers can score with the quaffle. There are two beaters who knock a pair of iron balls called bludgers around to disrupt plays and knock the opposition off of their brooms. Finally, there is the seeker, whose job is to catch an elusive winged golden ball called the snitch along with a variety of other helpful tasks- they are allowed to help the chasers or the keeper so long as they do not hold on to the quaffle for more than a second or attempt to score a goal."

"Well, that sounds quite dangerous. How often do people die while playing?"

"Die?" Annie responded, aghast. "No one dies in quidditch! The worst that happens is the occasional broken bone."

"But how is that possible when there are literally iron balls flying through the air with the goal of knocking people off their brooms from who knows how high up?"

"Well," Will mused while chewing on a piece of chicken. "I do believe that in the sport's early days people died. But many safeties have been put in place since then to mitigate that. The bludgers, for example, are specially charmed not to cause serious harm. The worst it can do is give you a bad bruise, or perhaps break your nose if one hits you in the face. If you get knocked off your broom by one, there are charms in place to slow your fall so you will merely be winded, though you might break a bone if you fall badly. The biggest problem with being knocked down like that is that the game does not stop and it can take a little while to catch your breath and retrieve your broom so you can get back into it which gives the other team a huge advantage for a little while."

"Oh, you seem quite knowledgeable about the game, do you play for the house team?" Altrouge said, finally speaking up.

"I dabble. I'm a reserve chaser for the team. I assist them in practice but don't quite have the skill to play in an actual game unless someone is sick or injured. I prefer it this way, less stress."

"So how is game scored?" Harry asked.

"It's pretty simple. Each score with the quaffle is worth 10 points. The game continues until the snitch has been caught, and it has a value that increases with time. It used to be worth a flat 150 points, but that was changed a few decades back as in shorter games whoever caught it would automatically win while in longer games it was pretty much worthless unless the game was close. Now it starts the game worth only 20 points, but has its value go up by 10 points every fifteen minutes to a maximum value of 500 points after 12 hours."

"Can games really last that long?"

"Well, the longest recorded game lasted three months. I think both of their seekers must have been hit with blindness curses or something for that to happen. That practice was outlawed immediately after the games' conclusion. Then again, they may have just been that bad. But typically, at least in a school game which have a much smaller stadium than professional games, it'll last an hour or two. Professional games generally last about three hours."

"So, tell me about the other sports."

The conversation about magical games continued through the rest of the meal with those nearby contributing. And so it was that the feast came to an end with every student filled to the bursting. The plates magically disappeared back to wherever they came from, Dumbledore stood up and said a few words, something about one of the corridors being quite dangerous- an open invitation for the adventurous spirits in the castle- and then they finished with one of the most discordant examples of music that Harry had ever heard.

Soon he, and the other first-year Hufflepuff students, found themselves being led staircase by a sixth-year prefect who introduced herself as Alice. They found themselves being led down a winding passageway that exited from the back of the great hall, down a flight of stairs, into a passage concealed by a tapestry, making several turns in quick succession, up a short flight of stairs, past several paintings of food, to a pile of barrels in a nook next to another staircase up.

"Sorry about taking the roundabout path here, there's a pair of troublemakers in Gryffindor that have been attempting to locate our common room for the past year- no doubt to prank us. To help stymie their efforts, this week you'll be shown a variety of paths leading you to and from the entrance to the great hall. We'd like to ask that once you have memorized the routes, that you randomly pick a different one every time you return to or leave the common room. Now, the easy path is down that passage past the entrance to the kitchens going up the second staircase. Head left from there and you'll find yourselves in the room you were in before being sorted. Use it if you are in a hurry, but make sure that there are no red-heads in the vicinity first.

"There are a few false entrances that look like this. Some even have secret passages within them and similar traps to better confuse members of the other houses. To further confuse them, about half the time when leaving the common room, you will find yourself exiting one of these other areas. This, however, is the only entrance. Now, watch closely." Alice walked around the stack of barrels and rapped against a barrel near the bottom in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff'. The lid swung open revealing a low earthy passage.

"Be sure to use the correct rhythm on the correct barrel. If you get it wrong, you'll be drenched in vinegar. Now, come along." And with that, she disappeared into the passage, the first years quickly following.

"Welcome to The Den!" Alice said as they emerged from a trapdoor near the back of the room. "This is the Hufflepuff common room. Make yourselves comfortable, but do be careful with the plants. Some of them are sensitive. Another prefect will be along in a few minutes to start settling you all in." And with that, she turned and went down one of the passages radiating out from The Den.

The room was large and circular with a lower ceiling than Harry had seen anywhere else in the castle. The whole place was covered in warm earth tones from the mahogany flooring, the cedar paneling on the walls, the couches, chairs, and cushions that came in yellows, oranges, browns, and greens, to the plants that burst out of every alcove, many of which were covered in bright flowers.

A pleasant scent hung in the air, a mix of wood smoke and cedar and flowers. A large fireplace was located across from the entrance, a fire merrily crackling within the hearth. The large number of comfortable chairs, couches, and cushions were arranged into numerous circles, each seating 5-10, that were close together but left enough space to easily navigate the room. A large and un-enchanted portrait of Helga Hufflepuff hung over the fire and above it several windows looking over the dark grounds from right at ground-level. It seemed that the common room was slightly below ground. 9 corridors led off from the room, their round shape making them appear to be tunnels rather than halls. The whole room felt extremely cozy and comfortable and organic- there were hardly any sharp corners to be found- but strangely there were no tables anywhere that Harry could see.

Others were entering the room now, Harry could hear their soft voices behind him but neither he nor any of the other first year students, having settled into chairs and now having difficulty keeping awake, paid them any heed.

"Firsties, come over here and gather around," An older student with bright purple shoulder-length hair called, but they were incapable of rousing themselves. "None of that now, I know that the room is awesome and great for naps but I can't talk to you all spread out like this." After some poking and prodding followed by much grumbling from the first years she began to speak in much too chipper a tone: "My name is Tonks. Just Tonks," she started giving them a warning glare. "I am a 7th year prefect here in Hufflepuff and I'll be giving you lot an overview of what to expect in this house before professor Sprout talks to you about classes. Alright, listen up now. This is very important." Tonks started pacing in front of the group of first years like a caged lion.

"The first rule of Hufflepuff: don't talk about Hufflepuff.

The second rule of Hufflepuff: do not talk about Hufflepuff.

"Now, I know what you guys are thinking- 'aren't you saying that just because it's a funny movie reference?' For those of you who don't know what a movie is, you are sad sad people and we will rectify this. For the rest of you, no, well yes, but not entirely. Here in Hufflepuff we do things differently than the other houses. Now, I don't want to hear the Gryffindors whining and complaining about 'why can't our house do that' or 'why are they more awesome than us' because it's annoying. Therefore, we do not talk about Hufflepuff to outsiders because it will blow their tiny minds into a million billion pieces and make them realize that they are missing out. Any questions?"

"But Gran always told me that Huff-"

"Your gran was WRONG! Your gran was not a Hufflepuff and therefore doesn't know what she's talking about. We take great care in maintaining our image of being duffers. Of being "nice" and "sweet" and "hardworking" and "not very bright" while not standing out because if we didn't EVERYONE would want to be Hufflepuff because Hufflepuff is the best. Now, sit down and shut up maggots before I make you run laps around the lake!" She yelled.

Tonks surveyed the quivering firsties. Messing with the newbies was so much fun! "Now, the reason Hufflepuff is different from the rest of the houses is because we are a family. Every last one of you are my younger sisters and brothers. I am sure that there are times that you will annoy each other, or me. After all, what kind of younger sibling does not annoy their older siblings? There will be fights and hurt feelings, these things are unavoidable. But at the end of the day we are family and will stick together. If you are having trouble with class or the Weasley twins catch you in a prank or there is an insufferable bully in Slytherin or Ravenclaw, whatever your problem is, bring it to us. We will take care of it. We will tutor you in your schoolwork, prank the terrible twins back twice as hard and make sure that the bully is educated about the error of their ways. We are family and we will stick together no matter what.

"I am aware that not all of you are from good families. Not all of you have families who will love you unconditionally, who will look after you when you are sick and comfort you when you are sad. The world is filled with broken people and the sad reality is that broken people often lead to broken families. This is not how it is meant to be! Families should love and care for one another regardless of anything else. Here in Hufflepuff we strive to make that into reality. I don't care what your family life is like back home, whether you have loving supportive parents or whether they are super critical- the type that might punish you for entering a "lesser house"- or even if they are dead or divorced and you are stuck with some uncaring aunt or uncle. Here we may not always succeed but we will be your family and will love and care for you for the rest of your life no matter what. In 10 years when you can't find a job, have no money and are living on the street, we will invite you into our homes and provide for you. In 15 years when you find the love of your life and get married we will be there dancing at your wedding. In 20 years when you have your first child we will be beside you celebrating. In 30 years when your child enters Hogwarts for the first time we will be next to you wishing them luck. In 100 years when you are on your deathbed ready to pass on into the great beyond we will be there offering you and your children and your grandchildren and your great grandchildren comfort. You belong to us now. You are a Hufflepuff, and we will _never_ abandon you!"

Tonk's hair had been slowly changing as she spoke. By the end of her speech it was a brilliant yellow with black stripes- the house colors. She took a moment, collected herself, and then continued in a softer tone: "To this end, we have a class mentorship program here in Hufflepuff. The class three years above your own, that is 4th year, will take you under their wing until they leave Hogwarts. If you have any problems or need help with something, you go to them first. If the problem cannot be resolved with that alone, they will come to us, their mentors. As I said before, we are all family here, and that is especially true of your mentors. They will be your older siblings the entire time that they are here. To help cement this relationship, you will be sleeping together. Well, across the hall from each other. Instead of splitting you up by year and gender, you will be split up by gender and mentorship. This will be the case until you reach 4th year yourselves and take on the newest class of firsties yourselves." She stepped back and finished with a soft smile, "I can't wait to see what you all become."

A squat little witch with a patched hat and grey wavy hair then stepped forward, there was a smile on her face as she turned to Tonks, "Thank you for your introduction Tonks, I couldn't have put it better myself." Turning back to the assembled firsties she said: "Welcome to Hogwarts! I am professor Pomona Sprout, your head of house and the chief professor of Herbology in this school. As you can see, there are nine passages that lead out of the common room. Eight of them are dormitories. Starting with the rightmost passage, that is where the boys of 1st and 4th year will be sleeping. Then we have the girls of 1st and 4th year on the opposite side of The Den from the leftmost passage. Moving on to the next passage, second on the right, we have the boys of 2nd and 5th year and the girls of those years on the left followed by those in 3rd and 6th year until we have the 7th year dormitories on either side of the central passage. This passage, the one directly across the room from Helga Hufflepuff's portrait and behind the trapdoor, leads to several rooms that can be used for studying, partying, hanging out, or whatever else you may wish to do in them. The only exception is the final room in which an epic game of Wyrms & Wizards has been ongoing for the last 50 years which is usually played for a few hours every night. Should you wish to join, I'm sure your mentors will explain.

"Now, the other reason I am here tonight is to hand out your schedules," She continued, taking out a stack of papers and passing them around. "This will give you some extra time to prepare for tomorrow which I feel is especially helpful as there have been some curriculum changes in recent years. Breakfast begins at seven-thirty, though most people don't arrive until after eight, and class starts at nine. Be sure to be finished eating by eight forty-five so that the fourth-years will have enough time to show you the way to your classroom and then reach their own on time. They will also take you between each of your classes for your first week here, long enough for you to figure out how to navigate on your own. Now then, it is late, your tummies are full of food, and you should all head to bed. If you'll excuse me, I do believe that the 7th years are waiting on me." And with that Professor Sprout headed down the central passage while pulling a bag full of oddly shaped dice out of a pocket.

"Right then," a fourth year boy spoke up, it was Cedric Harry realized after a moment, "boys follow us this way." He, and six other boys, went down the rightmost passage, followed by yawning first-years. It sloped gently upwards.

Soon they came upon round doors unevenly spaced in the warm light of copper. Three were to the left and five to the right. Each door, with the exception of one of those on the left, had a pair of names engraved upon it.

"Now," a new boy spoke up. He had sandy hair that stuck up in tufts making it look like he had just climbed out of bed. "My name is Alan Burton, I share a room with Harold Ross," he said indicating a slightly shorter boy with dark hair that fell to his shoulders. "As you can see, each room is assigned to two people with the exception of Cedric, Samuel, and Anthony's room. Mine is the first door on the left. If everyone would find their rooms and take a look inside?"

The first years did so. Harry found himself to be roommates with Neville, the fourth door on the right. Inside, the room was large but sparsely furnished. Two large four-poster beds in the house colors covered in patchwork quilts, a simple desk with a chair, a closet on one side, and a small fireplace on the other. The room was lit by a pair of small copper lamps, like those in the corridor, set into the walls beside the beds. There was a large window in the center of the room that Harry was just tall enough to peer out of. He could see blades of grass along the bottom of the window, numerous stars in the sky above, and could just barely make out the dark shapes of trees- the forest- a ways off.

Leaving their room, Harry and Neville returned to the passage just in time to hear Harold speak, he had a surprisingly deep voice for a boy his age and size. "You will find that your room is highly customizable. Take a look at the room Alan and I share." He indicated an open door.

His room's floor was covered by a very thick and lush carpet which seemed to depict a jungle, complete with roaming tigers, elephants, monkeys, and snakes that flickered in and out of view as they traveled around the dense foliage. A large bookcase stood against one wall filled to the brim with colorful books. Instead of two smaller desks, a single large table was found in the center of the room with a pair of padded chairs on either side. The walls were covered in posters, each depicting a different spectacular magical creature from dragons to the elusive blue-spotted tiger. Somehow, despite seemingly facing directly into the castle, there was a large window in the room showing a very similar view to the one Harry had just seen from his own room.

"Your room," started Cedric once the first years had all gotten a chance to see the room, "will be yours for your entire stay at Hogwarts, unless you elect to take a single room during seventh year. While it's location in relation to The Den will change, your room itself will not. Do not ask how this works, none of us are really sure either. Magic is wondrous like that. At the end of the hall you will find the bathroom, it is large enough that you won't really need to worry about having to wake early in order to shower. If you have any problems or need any help, don't hesitate to ask. Just know that we won't do your homework for you or otherwise help you cheat. After all, what's the point of being in school and learning if you don't actually learn? Now, are there any questions before we all head to bed?"

"Er… yes," a brown haired boy spoke up.

"All right. First of all, what is your name?"

"Justin, Justin Finch-Flechley sir."

"Now, now, none of that. I'm just Cedric, not a teacher or even a prefect. So, what is your question?"

"Well… er, how exactly did all of the furniture get inside? It's rather larger than the door and I noticed that your rooms have more furniture than ours."

"Magic, of course," Cedric replied cheerfully. "You'll be hearing that answer to a lot of your questions. More specifically, there are a large number of house elves in the castle. They are somewhat odd creatures and are, as far as I can tell, a type of brownie. Most of the castle upkeep, cleaning, and cooking is done by them, though they tend to stay out of sight. Once you decide what you want to put in your room, whether it's a piece of forgotten furniture that you found somewhere in the castle or your favorite chair from home, you simply need to make the request and they will take care of it, though you may want to get permission from your family before moving your bedroom here.

"Was there anything else any of you wanted to know?" A loud yawn met his question. "Right then, once more welcome to Hufflepuff and goodnight. We will be meeting in the common room at 7:45 to show you one of the many ways to make it to breakfast from here. Be sure to bring anything you need for morning classes with you- we won't be returning here until after lunch."

Following Cedric's dismissal, the first years shuffled off toward their rooms to bed. Entering their room again, Harry and Neville found themselves with a conundrum: who would take which bed. A dilemma that lasted for all of five seconds. Just as they were about to voice the question, a pair of trunks appeared at the foot of each bed. Harry's was on the left and Neville's on the right.

"Well, that happened," Harry said, breaking the silence. "So, what now?"

"Well… I suppose… we could take a look at our schedules. Tomorrow is Monday and it would probably be good to know what books to bring," Neville answered somewhat hesitantly.

"Alright, that sounds good," Harry said as he took out his schedule. "It looks like we have writing at 9:00 with a professor Shakespeare, maths at 10:35 with a professor Verrick, lunch at noon, charms at 1:00 in the afternoon with a professor Flitwick, defense against the dark arts with a professor Quirrel at 2:35, and finally art with at 4:10 with a professor Ross with dinner beginning at 6:30 in the evening. It also appears that these classes are repeated on Thursdays, except for art which is replaced by music. Interesting, it seems we have 80-minute periods for all of our classes, except the last ones."

"Well not our Wednesday classes," Neville interjected. "There's only one morning class- history with an afternoon class indicated but no details. Not even for a professor."

"That's odd. Maybe they just haven't worked out all the kinks just yet."

"Also odd is that they don't appear have proper rooms listed. There's no 'room 302' or 'room 512', just 'the charms room, charms corridor' which isn't very helpful. It doesn't even say what floor that corridor is on!"

Neville jumped, and turned around slowly, _she_ was back. In his room. Effortlessly bypassing the wards his Gran had told him about. Sure, she had helped find his toad and seemed to be nice, but she was just biding her time, waiting for the perfect chance to strike! There was no escape, no hope for survival…

"Harry, your friend isn't breathing," Altrouge said while gently prodding the unresponsive Neville.

"I know you get a kick out of scaring people witless, but could you not?"

"Scaring people?" Altrouge asked appearing confused. "Me?"

"Yes. Most normal people are downright terrified of you. Now why don't you give poor Neville a bit of space."

"Boo. You're no fun," she said moving over to Harry's bed. Neville stayed frozen in place, his complexion very pale, but he did appear to be breathing again.

"So, what brings you here? Did Len change her mind about wanting to come for the 8th time?"

"No, actually. Last I saw of Len, Arc had grabbed her and was heading out to the Rockies to 'hunt down bigfoot'. Someone else wanted to come."

A small portal opened and a knee-high fluffy… thing came out.

"Dear lord what is that? It looks like someone crossed an eevee with a poodle and dumped the resulting creature into a vat of bleach!"

"Now Harry, don't be mean," Altrouge chided while picking up the rather sad looking creature. "Prim missed your company and wants to stay here with you."

"Wait what? Prim? That's Prim? The elephant-sized great fuzzy wolf thing?"

"Yup! This is what she looked like when I first met her. Isn't she adorable?"

"Well, yes, she is absolutely adorable in an odd sort of way. But how in the world is that Prim?"

"She really wanted to join you for school and keep you company, and before I knew it she was like this again!"

"How exactly did Prim grow from this cute little thing into Primate Murder?"

"Blood. Lots and lots of blood," Altrouge stated darkly, before continuing in a cheerful tone. "Prim will be staying in here with you and be responsible for keeping you from getting into too much trouble this year. I'll be back later. Night!"

And she was gone leaving the fluffy squirrel-like thing that was apparently also the most terrifying creature in existence on Harry's bed where she promptly curled up and went to sleep.

"Well Neville, it looks like we might be in for an interesting year."

 **-End Chapter 12-**

 **Author's Note:**

I originally had another scene planned for this chapter, one in which a 5th year Hufflepuff starts ranting about how Hufflepuff is actually more Slytherin than Slytherin as it's rather counterproductive for all the sneaky and ambitious people to go to the house known for its sneakiness and ambition. And where better for them to go undercover than Hufflepuff who absolutely not sneaky at all (or so everyone believes). Turns out, he has deluded himself because he was hoping to make it in to Slytherin but failed and is unable to accept that fact. Unfortunately, there was no good place in the chapter to put this scene, maybe I'll write it up as a canon omake when I make those changes to earlier chapters.

Also I just (Sept. 14, 2018) made some very minor changes to the chapter (where they are talking about their schedule) to keep it consistent with the next several.


	13. A New Beginning

_A wild chapter appears._

 _Molten Thunder uses Procrastinate._

 _It's not very effective…_

* * *

 **Chapter 13- A New Beginning**

 _Monday, September 2_ _nd_ _1991_

When Harry awoke the next morning, he felt an awfully peculiar sensation. It was as if there was a great weight on his stomach, crushing him. Then, that feeling of pressure began to move. Just after it reached his chest, he felt something wet and warm touch his nose. Opening his eyes, he found himself nose-to-nose with a very odd, and utterly adorable, creature. It was licking his face. A minute later his brain finally came online and he remembered where (and what) that creature was. Primmy. Primate Murder. The Great Fuzzy. And apparently a girl.

Seeing that he was now awake, it yipped (a rather odd sound, more of a "fou" than a "yip"), jumped off his chest, and curled up on the end of Harry's bed and went to sleep. He stared at the now adorable murder beast and wondered how exactly it was a girl. Primate Murder was a one-of-a-kind monster right? There was no point to it having a gender (Harry carefully ignored the fact that he believed his wand to be male despite most of its components coming from females and it being a wand). Alt certainly hadn't bothered using a gender-specific pronoun on the cute monstrosity before the previous night. Maybe it had something to do with its new form?

What, exactly, was that form anyway? At least when taking the form of the monstrous Primate Murder it was easy to tell that his fuzzy companion was an enormous elephant-sized wolf. But now? He felt that his original assessment of its appearance- some sort of eevee/poodle cross- was correct. But this brought about a new problem. It was now much too cute to remain "Primate Murder". It didn't look like it could murder a fly! (Harry, however, had no doubts that despite its appearance, it was just as deadly as before).

So what should it be called? Prim, perhaps? Or maybe Fou? If it were a Pokémon, then it would stand to reason that the odd "fou" sound it made would be its name, but it wasn't. What exactly was it anyway? Alt had mentioned that Primmy was in this form when they first met. What was with its current form? Why was it so different than the one he knew so well? How long ago did they meet anyway? How old was Primmy?

Harry froze, a feeling of existential dread and certain death descended upon him. Glancing up, he found the cutified Primate Murder standing on his chest once more (how did he not notice?) and _glaring_ at him. Oops. He must have accidentally said that last thought aloud.

Looking into its, no _her_ , eyes, he sincerely said: "I'm very sorry for questioning your age and gender. It is clear to me that you are a lady deserving of respect. Please forgive me."

The terrifying creature looked satisfied at his words and returned to the foot of his bed to sleep. Harry let out a shaky breath. He was glad that Altrouge had taught him about the difference between a girl and a lady (one can be asked their age, while the other must _never_ be asked that question), he might not have made it through that trial unscathed without that particular nugget of wisdom.

But, that still left him with the question of her name. Prim, Prim sounded good. It could be short for Primate Murder, but wasn't sufficiently cute. Hmm… Prim… Prime? No. Primer? No. Primness? Maybe. Primeval? He shivered, absolutely not. Primordial? No for the same reason. No referencing her age. Primrose? Huh, that one was decent. A pretty flower, suitable for such an adorable creature.

Problem solved, Harry got up. Looking at his bedside mechanical alarm clock, he saw the time to be 7:10. It was awfully light for such an early hour, then again he was pretty far north. Plenty of time to shower and prepare for the coming day.

"Hey Neville, it's time to get up."

* * *

Upon exiting the passage from the common room forty minutes later, Harry and his fellow first-year boys found themselves exiting a closet in an entirely unfamiliar place.

"Well that's new," Alan (a fourth year) said. "I haven't seen the exit lead anywhere outside the ground floor before."

"Where are we?" A boy who had introduced himself as Ernest Macmillian a little earlier asked.

"We appear to be on the first floor, not far from the main staircase. Come along this way."

A minute later they were walking down the marble grand staircase into the entrance hall and entering the great hall. There were already a surprising number of students eating breakfast, considering the fact that classes did not start for more than an hour. Looking around, Harry saw that most of the students were at their house tables, but a few were not.

"Are there any rules about what table you can eat at?" Harry asked.

"Well, it's strongly suggested that you eat at your own table during dinner time, and during feasts you need to stay at your house table," Cedric responded. "But other than that, no. Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah it does thanks. Hey Neville, what do you say we go and sit with Hermione? I'm interested to hear what Ravenclaw is like." The girl Harry had indicated wasn't sitting near any of her housemates and had her head buried in a book. They started walking over, but before they reached the table they were intercepted by a rather chipper Tracey who grabbed them both by the arm and dragged them over to the Slytherin table.

"Mission accomplished captain!" she announced to a rather grumpy-looking Daphne with a swift salute.

"Tracey, what have I said about raising your voice before I've had my morning tea?"

"Not to do it, sir!"

"And what are you doing right now?"

"Reporting in as instructed, sir!"

Daphne released a long drawn-out sigh and buried her head in her hands. "Why," she mumbled, "did I have to be friends with a morning person like you?"

"Because you love me, sir!"

The bedraggled witch made a few half-hearted attempts to hit her friend before giving up and admitting defeat with yet another sigh.

"So," said Harry, "why did you drag us over here?"

"We tried the same thing you were about to, but she's fully absorbed by her book and completely ignored us," Daphne responded.

"So," Tracey continued, "being such good friends, cap'n here decided that it would be best to spare you the pain of rejection."

"A-are you sure that sh-she didn't just want a buffer?" Neville said softly.

"Ouch, that hurts! I've been dealt a fatal wound! The HMS Tracey is going down. Abandon ship! Abandon ship!" Tracey responded as she slowly, and dramatically, slid beneath the table. A Slytherin girl a few years older than them scoffed quietly at her actions and scooted down the bench away from the undignified Tracey. Neville, meanwhile, was flabbergasted.

"Don't worry about Tracey, she does that sometimes. Her father's an admiral in the navy and she likes to reference it." A hand snuck up from beneath the table, blindly groped around until it landed upon a piece of toast, grabbed it, then withdrew back into darkness.

"So," Harry began a moment later after taking a piece of toast for himself, "what's it like in Slytherin?"

The HMS Tracey surfaced briefly to answer his question: "a little bit cold and damp, very very green, and quite political."

"The common room and dorms are located down in the dungeon, quite far down as some of the windows look out into the lake."

"Into, as in into the waters beneath the surface of the lake. We get to watch the fish swimming around and I think I got a glimpse of the giant squid last night," Tracey interrupted from her dark domain.

Daphne ignored her and continued. "This makes it a bit cool and wet, but it is also quite cozy as there are fires burning at all times, although those fires have been spelled an emerald color so the lighting is a bit strange. As for the politics, from what I have been told the members of Slytherin arrange themselves into 'parties' composed of those with similar interests as the majority of the house goes into politics or business or government. What's Hufflepuff like?"

"Well, it's nice and cozy and our housemates are cool, but I'm afraid I can't tell you much more than that."

Tracey resurfaced, leaned in conspiratorially, and asked "why not?" in a whisper.

Surprisingly, it was Neville that responded: "I'm afraid that we had to make an unbreakable vow on the subject, sorry."

"Wha… What!? An unbreakable vow? Really?" Tracey reeled back as if struck.

Harry and Neville looked at each other for a moment before breaking out in laughter. When they had gotten control of themselves, Harry responded: "We didn't take any vows, but were told in no uncertain terms not to talk about the house as it would, to paraphrase a long-winded rant on the subject, 'make you jealous because of the awesomeness of Hufflepuff and lack of awesomeness of other houses', so we aren't allowed to talk about the house."

"Seriously? Now I need to know!"

Harry mimed zipping his lips, and throwing away the key. You could almost feel the amusement wafting off of him.

"Noooooooooooooo, don't do that! You must tell me! Tell meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

* * *

The first class of the year took place near the end of a corridor on the 4th floor. Their trip took several minutes as they had to traverse a large central chamber with numerous staircases that often changed positions. It was a serious safety hazard.

Entering the room and sitting at a desk was a novel experience for Harry. He had mostly been taught in one-on-one situations, generally in a lab. When he attended lectures, they took place in large rooms with stadium seating and students of all ages (but most older than him). Having a class in rectangular room with desks arranged in neat rows on a level floor (how would the students in the back see?) with everyone being about the same age was just _weird_.

A few minutes later, the rest of the class started finding their way in. The red on their robes identified them as Gryffindors, and given the fact that they were finding their way to the room in small groups meant that no one had helped to guide them to class. Not every chair had been filled by the time the professor entered from a door at the back of the classroom at exactly 9-o-clock.

"Good morning class, I am professor S. Shakespeare and I will be teaching you writing, grammar, and literature over the next five years we have together. In muggle schools this class tends to be labeled 'English'. As we are still waiting on a few stragglers, I'll only ask that you take out your quill and a piece of parchment for now."

The professor was tall, thin, and immaculately dressed. He was wearing a plum suit over a forest green shirt with light purple trousers. His eyes were a brilliant green that seemed to sparkle and he wore a golden monocle. His short black hair somehow formed spikes that stuck out from his head in all directions. It felt like this should have ruined the image he was presenting, but somehow it complemented the whole as it simply fit. He seemed strangely familiar to Harry.

A minute later the classroom door opened and four Gryffindor students sheepishly walked in. Harry recognized one of them to be that Ron kid he had briefly met on the train. They took seats at the back of the room.

"I will excuse tardiness this week as it can take some time to learn to navigate the castle, but do be sure to be here on time. Now, we will begin with the fundamentals. How many of you know how to write with a quill on parchment?"

Two-thirds of the class raised their hands.

"How many of you have done so before last week?"

Several students put their hands down.

"Thus, we shall begin with the art of writing on parchment with a quill. We'll worry about subjects like grammar and composition once you can actually write. Notes do no good to anyone if you cannot read your own writing, the same goes for your homework. If I cannot read it, you automatically get the grade of Troll and the same is true for the other professors. Now," the professor rapped his knuckle against the blackboard causing several paragraphs to appear, "you will start by copying these down upon your parchment while I walk around and assist. Once everyone is able to write to an acceptable level, hopefully by the end of the month, we will move on. Much of your homework is to be done in short-essay format so we will be working on that next."

A Gryffindor student raised her hand.

"Yes, that is Hamlet I'm having you copy. Any other questions?"

The hand lowered.

"Then let us begin."

* * *

After class ended, Cedric and a girl named Mandy met them in the hallway. This was quite fortuitous for the Gryffindor students who had been left to fend for themselves by their own prefects as they also had the next class together. The second class of the day was Maths, which two floors down on a hallway that could only be reached by taking the staircase at the end of the charms corridor (which happened to be on the third floor and connected to that forbidden corridor Dumbledore had mentioned, Harry vowed to visit soon). This area, they were informed, was known as "the department of mathemagics" and was practically labyrinthine in design. It was full of odd angles and directions to various rooms that could only be obtained by solving equations of varying difficulty. They were informed that the equations changed often, as did the location of the various rooms. Fortunately, the class they were heading for was right by the staircase. It was the more advanced classes that were trouble to locate.

Cedric and Mandy had guided them well- they had a full 10 minutes before class began so Mandy, who focused on the mathemagical arts, gave the first years a bit of a tour.

"Down there we have the arithmancy class which you can begin starting 3rd year. It focuses on the magical properties of numbers which lead to a lot of other interesting places. Solving this equation here, hmm…. Ok looks like we make a right here followed by four lefts and then through the underpass- that will take you to the malgebra class which is a bit more advanced and leads into warding. To the left, two-thirds of the way through the triangle then across the dodecahedron is the geomagimetry room. It looks into the magical properties of shapes and is necessary for alchemy. If instead we go straight, follow the curve to the left- which should eventually cross over the previous path- and then integrate the downward passage you should find your way to the calculazam room, it's one of the newer additions to the department and is useful in advanced spell crafting and number-based divination. Do be careful not to wander too much if you don't have the requisite math to find your way around. A few years back a student was lost in the non-Euclidian realm for several days. After he was recovered, he had to spend several months in the mind healing ward of Saint Mungo's as he kept having these horrible dreams of a twisted city rising from the depths of the ocean. He's better now, but we don't want a repeat of that incident."

"Are there any other ways to this department besides the staircase from the charms corridor?"

"I imagine that there are several secret passages that lead to other parts of the castle, but locating them requires strong skills in mathemagics and many believe that they can only be accessed from what the muggle-born students have dubbed the 'Cthulu Corridor'. We think that Mark was attempting to find one when he became lost, but he can't remember," Cedric answered. "Anyway, class starts in a minute and Professor V does not excuse tardiness. Don't wait up for us after class ends, you should be able to find your way down to lunch without too much trouble."

Then they took off down one of the many branching corridors, Mandy holding her wand aloft as it spewed a trail of glowing numbers. They entered the room and found it to be semi-circular with desks arrayed in a sort of spiraling pattern similar to how you would find seeds arranged in a sunflower. The professor was at her desk at the front- the exact middle of the pattern. There was a soft chime, it was 10:35 and class had begun.

"Good morning class, I am professor Verrick- or professor V for short- and I will be teaching you maths for the next two years." She was a severe looking bespectacled woman with short brown hair tied back and a stern face.

A groan came from a number of the room's occupants. Professor Verrick glanced at the students sharply. "Maths is very important for the wellbeing of your future. You do not need to proceed into the intricacies of mathemagics, but you do need a solid basis if you are ever to become functioning members of society. How do you expect to manage your money or pay off a loan or even go shopping if you have no idea how numbers work? We will be drilling the basics of math into your skulls until you can do it in your sleep, and I will not tolerate any slacking off! Hate me if you want, despise me even! I don't care. You will learn in this class whether you want to or not."

* * *

True to their word, there were no older students to help the first years find their way to lunch. It was easy enough to make it back to the charms corridor, but that is where things started to become… difficult. It should have been a straight shot back to the chamber with all the staircases, and yet Harry found himself turned around and stepping into the forbidden corridor not once but _three_ times while traversing the seemingly straight passage. Then, when he had finally made it back to the staircases that would take him down he found that every staircase he tried to take, even if he walked down it, lead him to a higher floor.

Twenty minutes later Harry found himself at the top of a tower with no idea how he managed that feat. He was also alone and had not seen another student since he had passed the 4th floor. There were now only 30 minutes of lunch left, and he was farther from the great hall than ever before. It would probably be faster to climb down the side of the castle than to try to find his way down when every staircase heading the direction he desired to travel somehow ended up sending him somewhere completely different. Unfortunately, his magecraft studies had not granted him the ability to fly- yet- and while he was an accomplished climber he wasn't sure if climbing down a magical castle that had somehow confounded his sense of direction would help. He'd probably end up on top of the tallest tower he could see instead of reaching the ground if he tried climbing.

But he decided to try his luck. It probably wouldn't be that much of a problem, all he had to do was climb one more set of stairs so he could reach the battlements and the castle would not be able to interfere in his quest for lunch any longer. Sure, it could try to mess with his sense of direction, but as long as he could see the ground he'd be fine. Harry climbed the flight of winding stairs and opened the door to find himself in the entrance hall. He walked across it and through the open door to the great hall and found himself at his destination.

Bewildered, he picked the closest open seat, put his head in his hands, and moaned "This doesn't make any sense!"

The girl next to him chuckled. She was a tall Asian girl several years older than him with long black hair and three large red feathers of a type he could not identify in her hair. Turning to him she said with a grin "First time trying to navigate the castle on your own?"

His groan was all the answer she needed and her grin grew wider. "So," she asked Harry leaning in conspiratorially as she did, "where did you end up?"

"The top of one of the towers, not sure which one, then when I went to open the door to the roof so I could try to climb my way down, I was back in the entrance hall."

She looked at him for a moment before bursting out in laughter. When she had gotten control of herself a moment later she turned back to him with a grin and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Climb down the castle? You've got guts, I like you! Ah, I remember that first attempt to reach lunch. I was coming from transfiguration and ended up in the mathemagics department. Being pants at math I became very very lost. I even tried to punch my way out of the corridor, but only managed to bruise my knuckles. A teacher found me there an hour later glaring angrily at the wall. Ah, good times."

"Wait, you missed lunch entirely and had to have a teacher find you and are laughing at that?" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

"Well, the first time is always the worst but it gets better after that. Unfortunately, I never managed to get that lost again- as long as I avoided maths I was fine. And yes, it was a rather silly situation I found myself in, so why not laugh now that it is over? Anyway, I believe I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Yuri Ha," she tapped a gleaming badge on her chest then offered her hand, "6th year Gryffindor prefect."

"I'm Harry Brunestud," he replied taking the hand she offered and shaking it. "Gryffindor?" He looked around, it seemed that in his disorientation he found his way to the wrong table. "And I was sure that I sat down at correct table."

"It happens, but who is to say that this was the wrong table to sit at? You may have never met my magnificent self if you had sat at the 'correct' table."

"I suppose…"

"Hey! What's with that lackluster response? I'm the most magnificent person you'll ever have the pleasure of meeting!"

"Moving on, why did I get so lost? I'm usually good with directions and knew which way should have taken me back but didn't."

"You must remember that Hogwarts is a castle, a _magical_ castle. It was built as a fortress to stop invaders and protect its inhabitants. There are who knows how many thousands of wards and enchantments layered upon the building drawing power from the ley-lines that converge beneath the lake. Having so much magic concentrated in a small space can have unpredictable results. Some people think it has given the castle some limited amount of sentience, if it did then you firsties becoming so lost would be proof that the castle is a prankster. Others are of the opinion that it takes some time for the wards to recognize new students and so some of the defenses are active against you guys leading to disorientation and confusion. I think it may be something entirely different and you just gotta learn the trick to properly navigating the castle, it's something of an art. The faster you learn by becoming lost and then finding your again, the easier your time here will be. Anyways, lunch is wrapping up and you need to head off to your next class, here comes Mandy to collect you now."

Sure enough, a Hufflepuff girl with curly brown hair and glasses was making her way over towards them. Harry recognized her as the girl who had guided his class to maths.

"Ah good, you made it to lunch Harry. That leaves just four unaccounted for. We'll be meeting in the entrance hall in five minutes to take you to your next class."

* * *

The next class, as it turned out, was Charms. It also turned out that the missing Hufflepuff students- Neville, Justin, and two girls he had not yet met- were not as lost as Molly had believed. The four of them were already in the classroom sitting at a desk and eating sandwiches. Harry walked over with another boy.

"I heard you four were lost and was afraid you had missed lunch."

"We were lost, so lost we never made it out of the corridor!" Neville responded after finishing a bite of ham and cheese sandwich.

"Yeah, the professor saw us being continually turned around, took pity on us, and gave us lunch here in the classroom," the somewhat pudgy girl with auburn hair said.

"He's quite nice," the other girl, a tall girl with blond hair in pig tails, added between bites.

"Glad to hear it. I'm certain I would have starved to death had I missed lunch," the other boy who had walked over- a blond-haired boy with grey eyes and far too many freckles- said. "I'm Edward by the way," he continued, "didn't get the chance to introduce myself to everyone last night."

"I'm Susan and this," the auburn-haired girl said placing her hand on the other girl's shoulder, "is my friend Hannah."

"It's nice to meet you," Harry responded, "I'm Harry and I managed to lose myself so well I ended up eating lunch with the Gryffindors!"

A few minutes and several introductions later, the second half of the class was herded in by a diminutive wizard. He walked up to the front of the room, took a ponderous leap that looked like it should have occurred on the moon instead of Earth, and addressed the class from atop his desk in a somewhat high-pitched and squeaky voice: "Take a seat everyone and we will begin."

A minute later Harry found himself seated in the front between a Ravenclaw boy with dark hair and Hermione. The professor took roll while the students settled themselves, then began to speak.

"Welcome to charms. I am professor Filius Flitwick, head of House Ravenclaw, and mentor of the dueling club. In this class we will be covering the subject of charms, a rather diverse subject composed of many different fields of study. In general terms, charms tend to be spells that alter an object's properties as opposed to altering an object's form as with transfiguration. Offensively natured charms, sometimes called dark charms, are more commonly known as hexes, jinxes, and curses. The term 'charm' can cover anything from your most basic levitation or unlocking spell to some of the most powerful spells in existence.

"Because this class is so generalized, you are expected to pick a specialization in your 6th year, should you prove adept at charms and pass your O.W.L. These classes are abjuration which focuses on charms that are protective in nature, enchantment which explores charms that affect the mind- which is not the same as enchanting or the creation of magical items as that has more to do with the use of runes- alteration which changes an object's conceptual properties, and evocation which unleashes blasts of elemental fury. Now I'm sure you are all wondering why I'm talking about something so far off. First, it's not as far away as you may believe. And second, it's to give you motivation- something to strive for, a goal to attain." Seeing that he was beginning to lose his students, Flitwick changed gears.

"All right, wands out everyone!" The students gave a start, before scrambling beneath their desks searching for bags that had fallen out of reach. "Today we will be working on learning the basic forms and wand movements. Charms tend to be precise and finicky. If you mispronounce the spell or are not exact with your wand motions your spell could backfire to devastating effect! We will be learning and drilling forms and motions until I deem your motions acceptable. Then, and only then, will you start to learn actual spells. Magic is fun, but magic is dangerous. Never forget that."

* * *

Harry's next class, again with the Ravenclaws, was defense against the dark arts. It was taught by a man in a turban who seemed to have an unfortunate lack of confidence as well as (to Harry's great amusement) a debilitating and irrational fear of vampires if the mirrors, garlic, and holy symbols lining the classroom's walls were any indication. The teacher, a professor Quirrinus Quirrel, stuttered his way through the lesson. From what Harry could gather, the class focused on how to deal with dangerous magical creatures as well as various useful jinxes and counter-jinxes.

Being a studious person (absolutely no slacking was allowed by Lorelei, a habit that stuck even now that he was not under her direct tutelage), Harry found that he already knew the material that Quirrel was struggling to lay out and was utterly bored. His other teachers that day took the material he had already read and reiterated it with an intriguing twist, an approach he had not thought of, or put it to practical use. But Quirrel almost seemed to be reading straight from the book, and not doing a good job at that. Harry pitied the poor fellow and wondered what could have possibly happened to make him turn out that way.

Following defense, Harry and his classmates were brought to their final class of the day: magical art. It was located at the base of one of Hogwarts' many towers in a large circular room. In the center of the room, sitting upon the ceiling as if gravity had been reversed, was a young witch with spectacular multicolored hair that couldn't seem to decide if it was aqua, green, purple, magenta, or black.

"Young artlings, welcome to my class. I am professor Elise Ross and I will be teaching you about the magic of color and the color of magic. You will find around the room a number of easels with a variety of different types of paper and canvas. Find one that suits you and we will begin with an exploration of magical paints."

The professor drifted down from the ceiling, righted herself shortly before reaching the floor, and landed in a heavily cushioned armchair that spontaneously appeared beneath her. She plucked a steaming mug of coffee from thin air, breathed in its aroma, and continued.

"In this class I do not expect you to be amazing and create masterpieces worthy of the Louvre, I will not be grading you on how good your art is." At this declaration, most of the Ravenclaw students began muttering to each other and the phrase "well I never!" was clearly audible as were several loud gasps. They all looked scandalized upon hearing that their grades would not be based upon the quality of their work, a novel concept to be sure.

Professor Ross took a sip of her coffee, surveyed her artlings, waited for the Ravenclaws to settle down, the continued. "What I will be grading you on is the effort you make in my class and your willingness to learn and improve. If you make an honest effort you will most likely receive an Outstanding. If your focus is instead on messing around with your friends then slapping a couple of layers of paint on your canvas when there are only 5 minutes left in class and calling it done, you will fail. If you decide to continue with this class after the year is up then you can expect to have a painting or portrait of your creation hung upon the walls of Hogwarts before you graduate in seven years. Now," she declared standing suddenly, "we have 100 minutes left together this week so let us begin!"

* * *

It was just after six in the evening, half an hour before dinner began, when the paint-speckled Hufflepuff first years were escorted back into their common room to wash before eating. The boys were significantly more colorful than the girls.

What historians would later designate as the opening salvo of the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw Paint War was a short but brutal conflict. Historians believe that it began when the Hufflepuff captain Ernie MacMillan snatched the last of the Reticulated Red paint from Ravenclaw general Terry Boot's stockpile. Retaliation was swift, and retaliation was pink. The injured captain fled behind Hufflepuff lines with his prize and ordered an artillery strike of Sunlit Black upon the enemy's supply lines. Having successfully driven off their foes, general Longbottom ordered the capture of the enemy supply camp to ensure a steady supply of Oolong Orange for their countrymen. They were met by an opposing sortie headed by lieutenant Andrew Wilson and their skirmish soon escalated into open battle. Colonel Harry Brunestud was just beginning to draw up plans to strike at the heart of the enemy forces using deception and their entire stock of starburst indigo when the Grand Empress Elise dealt a decisive blow to both armies after a careless shot of panther purple struck her as she was reclining. She immediately confiscated their ammunition and denounced their conflict as a "terrible waste of paint!" Temporary truce now in effect, both sides began planning next week's conflict, broad smiles all around.

Dinner that night was a boisterous affair. Each telling of the conflict saw additional embellishment and exaggeration until fact had been twisted into fiction. Every battle scar was displayed and the cause of injury carefully acted out. Between bites of dinner and expounding on their exploits, the boys of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw glared at each other promising just vengeance and righteous retribution.

After dinner the first years found themselves at a loss. They still had nearly three hours until bed, had not been assigned any homework, and the clubs which would normally be held at this time were not beginning until next week. Several games were suggested but no consensus was reached until professor Sprout arrived, complemented them on their victory over the Ravenclaws, and suggested that they join the upper years for a session of Wyrms & Wizards where they could put their tactical brilliance to practical use. There were no objections, so they marched off to the game room to do battle with the forces of evil (controlled by several members of the 6th year class).

The first-year boys were crushed, utterly and completely in the ensuing melee. Their tactical brilliance was torn to shreds as the evil warlock ran circles around them and dragged them through every obstacle. Their power was not enough to save Neville and Justin from the swamp troll. Their cunning did not foresee the spike trap located on the ceiling that triggered when the Gem of Power was removed from its pedestal. Their tactical brilliance was rendered useless against the undead horde the warlock raised as he taunted the battered heroes from his dark throne. As they trooped off to bed, exhausted and defeated with their egos thoroughly deflated, they swore eternal vengeance against their game masters.

* * *

Tuesday morning began much the same as Monday had, with the exception of the Glare of Certain Doom™. In fact, Harry didn't see Prim anywhere in his room which was strange as he was certain she had been sleeping on his bed when he and Neville dragged themselves into the room after being mercilessly crushed by several sadistic seniors. Oh well. What was the worst that could happen?

Harry found that the great hall was rather devoid of intelligent life that morning. Many students had not yet woken, and most of those that had seemed to be in need of several strong cups of coffee. Shortly after sitting down at the Hufflepuff table, Harry found a certain ball of fluff in his lap begging him for treats. There was plenty of bacon so Harry pampered his pet monstrosity.

"She really likes you, you know," Altrouge was beside him buttering a piece of toast. "She usually hates humans, used to kill them on sight. It was rather hard to make friends with her like that. I find someone interesting and," she drew a finger across her throat, "dead. But now, to see her here surrounded by humans and not doing a single thing… This change you have caused is nothing short of miraculous."

"But I didn't do anything special!"

"You didn't have to. You were you, and that was enough. Centuries of antagonistic behavior erased in under a decade."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to her words, it wasn't often that Altrouge acted like this. She was capricious and her mood generally swung between calm and whimsical. She was often kind and caring towards him, sometimes serious or melancholy, but only very rarely nostalgic. His guardian, his mother, dwelled in the present and looked toward the future. Reminiscing was not something she ever did. Harry suspected she had few happy memories to remember, and so tended to avoid the subject. All of this is to say that Altrouge was acting quite unlike herself, and so Harry simply remained quiet.

A sip of tea, a bite of toast with egg and bacon, a moment of silent reflection. "You know," she continued, turning her garnet eyes on him, "I never even considered the possible consequences of taking you in. That in all likelihood the second Primate Murder spotted you when I returned home it would kill you. It wasn't until I was standing on the lawn with the monster plodding towards me that the thought even crossed my mind. I fully expected for you to be killed then and there. I wouldn't even have lost any sleep over it, it would simply be another diversion, another attempt to end my boredom," Altrouge spat out this last word as if it were a curse, "destroyed before it could even start. And then," she stared up at the enchanted ceiling, it looked to be a beautiful day with lots of little puffy cumulus clouds drifting in an azure ocean. She stared up at it and her eyes lost focus as she remembered the moment when it all changed. "And then Primmy just padded up, took a great big sniff of the bundle I carried, gently plucked you from my arms, and lay herself down around you like a great fuzzy blanket. At that moment you became irreplaceable family." Altrouge wrapped her arms around Harry and drew him into a gentle hug.

"And now," Altrouge continued, "now Prim has taken a completely different form. A human-friendly form. I'm not sure you understand the magnitude of what you've made happen Harry. I'm not completely aware of it myself."

A minute later Altrouge released the now fidgeting Harry. There was a brilliant blush on his cheeks.

"So," she spoke in a suddenly cheerful tone, turning back to him with a grin, "how was your first day? Did you make any friends? What happened?"

The moment was over, her mood suddenly shifting as it so often did with no evidence of her previous nostalgia. Accepting the jarring transition with the ease of long practice, Harry embarked upon his tale of the previous day's events, of friends met and battles fought.

 **-End chapter 13-**

* * *

 **Omake:** Why Altrouge is ignored by the school or Altrouge is a nerd who reads too much

"Altrouge, I've been wondering. Why doesn't anyone seem to react to your presence when you show up? You are very obviously not a student or a member of the staff here at Hogwarts."

"I have an SEP field."

"A what?"

She grabbed a silver chain that hung around her neck. Harry hadn't noticed it before. Dangling on the end of the chain was a small ruby. It, and the silver inset, were carved with numerous runes and symbols.

"This is a mystic code that generates a SEP field- a Somebody Else's Problem field. It more or less makes people feel that my presence isn't an issue- if it was someone else would deal with it. It's someone else's problem. So no one does or says anything, or even notices anything out of the ordinary. It's quite a lovely little trinket."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

This chapter was brought to you in part by: Hurricane Florence. It cancelled half of my classes this week giving me enough free time to actually work on my story some. Hopefully my power stays on this weekend so that I can keep writing.

This chapter was originally supposed to cover the first half of Harry's week. Then I actually wrote it and it. Just. Kept. Growing. Bigger. When it hit 6k words for one day, I decided that was enough and turned it into a chapter of its own. It was also mostly written while on vacation in Greece. What? That was July and it's now September, why didn't I publish it earlier you say? Mostly because I wanted to finish off Harry's first week at school first (so I could know how many chapters to make it and where to end each one) and I became incredibly busy with moving and starting graduate school so finishing off the week took much longer than expected. On the plus side that means I have 4 chapters to give you all instead of just one (3 are complete and #4 is at about 20% and will hopefully be done this month). Chapter 14 will be posted on the 21st, Chapter 15 on the 28th, and hopefully I'll be done with Chapter 16 in time to post it on October 5th. After that I probably won't have any new chapters until Christmas.

This chapter was also supposed to end with Harry talking to Hermione, but Altrouge decided to show up and be emotional. There will be plenty of Hermione in later chapters. As for the omake, for those of you who have no knowledge of amazing British literature- it's a reference to Douglas Adams' _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ (book 3 I think- if you haven't read the series, please do. It's hilarious in a very British way. Ignore the movie.).

As for the OC teachers, I'm sure you can all guess the identity of Mr. S. Shakespeare. The math teacher is based loosely upon a very strict teacher I had in 3rd grade (who later on had people call her by just the first letter of her last name for some reason). Meanwhile the art teacher is basically what my sister would be like if she was magical.


	14. School Days

**Chapter 14: School Days**

 _Tuesday, September 3_ _rd_ _1991_

Harry's first class of the day was titled "Culture". He and his class were guided by Tonks this morning as the 4th years were starting the day down in the dungeons. The classroom was located up on the fifth floor overlooking the courtyard and had a rather odd aesthetic.

On one side of the room there were numerous wizarding portraits along with a few. All of them moved. The witches and wizards immortalized in paint flitted from frame to frame talking to one another and having tea. Meanwhile the posters displayed a number of very athletic men on broomstick, robes whipping behind them. There was one poster that stood out because it was different. It was an idyllic scene of a tropical beach complete with the waves crashing along with the occasional bird flying past.

The other side of the room was entirely different. It was covered in paintings, photographs, and posters that did not move. They were of mundane make (or muggle make as the wizards would say). An oil portrait of a red headed man with one ear appeared to be the centerpiece of this collection. It had very prominent brush strokes that swirled about the portrait. Around it were a number of still life paintings in various styles and around those were some majestic black and white photographs. On either end of the wall were brightly colored posters advertising movies, bands, concerts, and sports teams. Harry was particularly amused to find a poster for _Monty Python's Flying Circus_ among them. When he pointed it out to Tonks, she went pink. Completely pink. Then the pink stopped, trickled out of her, and was replaced by an angry red as she noticed some of the other posters in the room.

The enraged Tonks stomped to the front of the classroom past the teacher's desk and yelled at the door behind it: "Mum! What did I say about my posters!?"

The door opened and a pretty witch with brown hair so dark it could almost be considered black and brown eyes just a few shades lighter than that came out and leveled her gaze on the unruly Tonks. Tonks paused a bit, her brilliant red coloration becoming more subdued as she obviously had not expected such nonchalance. Mustering herself, she attempted to resume her tirade: "I distinctly remembering telling you not to touch them! And yet, here they are."

"Nymphadora," the woman responded calmly, and Harry realized with a start that this was the name Tonks was so desperate to avoid having used. He wasn't sure why she appeared to dislike her name so much, he'd certainly heard stranger. Having sufficiently gotten her daughter's attention with her name, if Tonks' paling complexion was any indication, the woman continued. "These are not your posters."

"But they are exactly the same!"

"Yes," she continued patiently, "they are. Because I duplicated your posters so I could have them here in my classroom. I think they look quite nice, don't you?"

Tonks looked like she didn't know what to think, so she didn't reply.

"Now, you have a class to attend and I have a class to teach. You'd better leave before you end up being late."

Tonks turned to leave, and then realized that the entirety of the first year Hufflepuffs and quite a few of the first year Slytherins were staring at her, and had all heard her first name. The full-body pink briefly returned, and then vanished once more. She walked up, stared at the children arranged before her, narrowed her eyes and hissed "you all heard nothing!" before rushing out of the classroom and slamming the door. Tonks' hair was still a fiery red.

'She must be terrible at poker,' Harry thought. 'Er, wizarding poker that is. It probably explodes your chips when you lose or something.'

"All right class, your morning entertainment is over, please take your seats." Their professor's eyes were twinkling in the way a parent's eyes do when they drink in the embarrassment of their children.

Someone grabbed Harry and dragged him into a seat. He found it was Tracey.

"You managed to evade me this morning, but I've got you now. You're my captive for the class."

"But I didn't intend to, I was just…"

"Captives will be silent!" She declared glaring at him, hands on her hips. "Now, to make up for your absence you must take notes for me- ow!" While she was monologuing, Daphne had walked up behind her and whacked her over the head with a roll of parchment.

"You can go and sit with Neville," Daphne said.

"But my captive!"

"Go." Daphne stared at Tracey, and Tracey's will crumbled. Defeated, the overenthusiastic girl grabbed her bag and walked dejectedly towards Neville, melodramatically dragging her feet the whole way.

"You know, that'll probably make her worse later. You could have just sat with Neville and allowed me to be subject to Hurricane Tracey."

"I am not a cruel person."

Harry pointed at Neville, an eyebrow raised.

"He's always been better at dealing with her antics than me."

"You knew each other before?"

"Yes, but not particularly well. Our families are in similar social circles so Tracey and I would generally see Neville several times a year. Despite his timidity he was always able to calm Tracey down when she was acting up."

Before Harry could continue the conversation, their professor spoke. "Good morning class, I am professor Andromeda Tonks and I will be teaching you all culture for the next three years. In this class we will be exploring both muggle and wizarding culture, covering wizarding culture and society on Tuesdays and muggle culture and society on Fridays."

She was interrupted by a blond Slytherin boy who spoke in a drawl. Harry had run into him briefly on the train but hadn't bothered to remember his name as he appeared unimportant. "I don't see why I need to be in this class. Father says muggle culture is worthless and I already know all I need to about wizarding culture."

"And I am sure, nephew, that the muggleborn half of the class would say they know all they need to about muggle culture. I'll give you a hint about why they might want to: movies. Do you even know what those are nephew? No? Then you need to be part of this class, you might learn something. Besides, being all-knowing about wizarding culture you can be a good neighbor and help me teach those raised outside of wizarding homes about it next Tuesday. How does that sound?"

The boy looked aghast. Harry heard a quiet "when my father hears…" drifting over from him.

"Ignore Malfoy," Daphne said softly beside him. "He's a spoiled brat who goes running to daddy whenever something doesn't go his way."

"Thinking of movies, there will also be an optional movie club here in this room Sunday afternoons starting at 3. If you are interested, please come. Continuing on, we will not only be exploring both wizarding and muggle cultures but also be comparing and contrasting them. You may have heard of a class that used to be offered here: muggle studies. This class has replaced that one and is mandatory for your first three years as muggle studies was horribly out of date. Incredibly rapid changes have occurred in muggle society over the last hundred years while wizard society has evolved at a much slower pace."

* * *

Their next class took place in one of the greenhouses outside. Tonks (Nymphadora? There were two Tonks in the castle now) had not returned to guide them, but professor Tonks had graciously brought the class down to the entrance hall. Malfoy spent the whole time at the back of the group complaining about the class to any who would listen.

The greenhouse itself was spacious and filled with all manner of exotic magical plants Harry had never before seen. Professor sprout was bustling about the greenhouse wearing dirt-caked gloves. Harry turned to examine an innocent looking shrub that was swaying gently in the non-existent breeze, and was about to touch it when Neville grabbed his hand.

"Don't. The more innocent a plant appears, the more dangerous it typically is. That one has a mild paralysis poison coating its leaves and the one next to it touched sprouts large thorns when touched. They tend to grow together and are quite a nasty combination."

"Indeed, thank you for preventing an unfortunate accident Longbottom. Tuesday is too early in the year for someone to be visiting the hospital ward. Five points to Hufflepuff."

Sprout picked up the plants and carried them to the back where she placed them upon a high shelf. Turning back to Harry and Neville she explained "The third years were here last and you all made it down so fast that I didn't have time to put away all the plants they were using."

Surveying her class, she began teaching. "Welcome. Here in herbology we will be learning about the properties of a number of magical plants and how to properly care for them. We will also be learning several very useful charms that are used to this effect. Today we will begin by going over the year's syllabus and then move on to fertilizing a rather mundane plant, but one quite useful in potions: aconite." She pointed to a plant with small purple flowers. "Its leaves are quite poisonous, so don't eat them, but both leaves and roots are useful ingredients in potion-making."

* * *

Lunch followed herbology and found Harry and Daphne sitting next to a sleepy looking Hermione. It took her a moment to register their presence.

"Oh, Harry, good morning. Daphne, you t…*yawn* too nice to see you."

"Long day?" Daphne asked.

Hermione shook her head, yawned again, then spoke. "I didn't get enough sleep last night."

"Why not?" Harry prodded.

"Why not? Because I was reading. Had to figure out how to cast a simple light charm so I could continue after curfew."

Daphne was impressed. While lumos wasn't a very complex spell, for a muggleborn student to cast it on their first day of school with nothing more than a few books to guide them was quite the accomplishment. It seemed that her decision to let the girl stay with them on the train, despite her usual aversion to those who were rude and impetuous, would pay off. Hermione would likely become a powerful ally in the years to come. Harry flicked her nose breaking her train of thought.

"You're scheming. Stop it, not at lunch."

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are, or were. I've seen many magi make the same expression when they were scheming, I know what it looks like."

Daphne pouted. Hermione missed the entire exchange.

"So," Harry said, "what were you reading?"

Hermione's eyes lit up and her tiredness melted away. "I was reading an old book about potions. There are so many interesting effects that can be created, it just sounds like such a fun class and my excitement got the better of me last night."

"Interesting," Daphne commented. "We just came from Herbology and that class has some strong ties with potions so you may want to look into it as well. However, you may be disappointed in the class, Professor Snape is a rather surly man."

"Oh I did look into it, we had herbology yesterday morning. It was reading about herbology that brought me to potions last night. I do hope our professor is good, but I don't think it should matter that much. I doubt a single person could make me dislike such an interesting subject."

"You'd be surprised at how important a good professor is," Harry replied. "A good teacher can make all the difference in the world, a bad one can make you hate a subject forever."

Hermione looked scandalized and glanced around to make sure no one had heard. "Harry!" she said in a loud whisper. "You can't say such things about teachers! The teachers here are the best in the world, we won't have a bad teacher here."

"Why not? It's true. And we already have a bad teacher: Quirrel. He is boring and ineffective. Not the worst I've seen, but definitely bad."

Now Hermione looked horrified. "Stop. Just stop! Don't badmouth our teachers! Maybe he was just having a bad day or something, at least give him a chance before deciding that he's bad at his job!"

"You do know, Hermione," Daphne said speaking up, "that just because someone is a good wizard does not make them a good teacher. Some people just aren't cut out for it. I haven't had Quirrel yet, but I have heard some of the upper years talk about him and he really doesn't sound that great. But," she sat back, "I suppose I can give him the benefit of the doubt, but if he's still this bad in a couple of weeks…"

"So, Hermione," Harry said changing the subject with the subtlety of a rampaging troll, "which class was your favorite?"

"Ooh, well I really like charms. Flitwick is just great. I also really like the class I just came from- mathemagics. Oh the applications of the class… It's amazing and maths always was my favorite class in primary school."

"I've been wondering," Daphne mulled, "you mentioned that you were reading an old book on potions. Where did you find it? Our textbook was only printed a few years ago."

"Ravenclaw has a library! An amazing magnificent library full of old books." Hermione almost seemed to sparkle as she stared into the distance, seeing the library in her mind. "We are located in a tower. A good portion of the tower, going straight up from the common room to the roof, is a library. The bedrooms are located in the space between the library which is at the center of the tower and the outer walls. It is simply the most wonderful amazing place I have ever been. I'm so glad I decided not to go with Gryffindor, I doubt that they have half as good a library as we do."

Harry and Daphne looked at each other in amusement. Hermione was now completely lost in her memory of thousands upon thousands of books and remained that way for the rest of their meal.

* * *

Immediately after lunch was potions with Ravenclaw. The classroom was located one floor down in the basement area, approximately level with the Hufflepuff common room. Harry had expected the class to be in the dungeons which began a floor or two below their present location. He found the classroom to be large and well lit with a high ceiling. A number of large open windows lined the opposite wall just below the roof, a good 10 feet above the floor. Several blackboards sat below the windows and all had been carefully cleaned.

Sitting directly across from the door in front of the blackboards was the teacher's desk. It was a large sturdy piece of oaken furniture with numerous drawers. Upon the desk was a cutting board and to either side of the desk were some large cauldrons full of gently boiling water as they were sat over a low flame. There were several tables and cabinets laden with potions equipment recessed into the wall on either side of the room.

The walls were white plaster and had a number of framed posters depicting various reagents and preparation techniques while the ceiling was naked stone and stained black with smoke. There were twenty sturdy and stained desks, each able to seat two, arranged in neat rows 6 wide and 3 deep with the last two desks in the back corners. Harry soon found himself sitting next to a Ravenclaw girl he didn't know, she was obviously of Indian descent.

He was about to introduce himself when a side door opened behind him and their teacher entered. It was not professor Snape, the sallow-faced man with the greasy hair and hook nose that Tracey had pointed out before the end of breakfast the day before. Instead, their teacher was a very young and rather short witch with braided black hair. Harry estimated that she was certainly no older than 25.

She strode to her desk, an impressive feat given her height and the length of her legs, turned to her class with a cheerful smile and dimpled cheeks, and introduced herself.

"Welcome class, I am professor Agatha Heath and I will be teaching potions for your first three years. Until recently, professor Snape taught all seven years of potions, but that was not a good idea. Now, I'm not saying anything bad about the good professor, he is the most brilliant potioneer I have ever met, and I am currently working on my potions mastery under him. However, one person teaching every class can be overwhelming. Professor Snape may be a genius, but he did not have the time, energy, or understanding for how lower-level classes should be taught so he taught all his classes in the same way. He expected everyone to already know the basics, just as he had at their age, and thus didn't bother to teach them those things which led to many burnt hands and melted cauldrons. We, however, will focus almost exclusively upon the basics. There will be little in the way of actual potion making until everyone understands how to properly handle and prepare ingredients, how various ingredients react, and proper potion-making technique. We will have a demonstration every class in which I will show you how proper preparation and combination can create very different potions than ones done improperly." She leaned in conspiratorially, "If we do this part correctly, or rather incorrectly, demonstrating bad potion-making may even involve some minor explosions!"

She glided back to the nearest blackboard, every eye fixed upon her in anticipation, and tapped it with her wand. A list of ingredients and basic instructions for their preparation appeared on said board. "We will begin today by exploring just how much proper reagent preparation influences a potion's quality. You can see here on this board the ingredients used in the _frost breath_ potion. It is a potion of my own creation, further refined by professor Snape. It is a rather fun potion that has a number of easily found ingredients and is not hard to brew. I expect that by the end of the year you will all be able to create it on your own just in time for summer break."

"What does it do?" Hermione asked excitedly from the opposite end of the room.

"Exactly what you'd think," the professor replied. "Take a sip of the potion and your next breath will cover everything it touches in a layer of hoarfrost. A very fun potion to use with your friends during the summer. Add a few more ingredients and a little complexity to the potion-making process and you will have the more advanced ice breath potion," she tapped the board again and several more ingredients appeared along with a number of new steps, "which is what we are working on today as, well, you'll see. So," she said with a start causing Neville to jump, "here is what we will be doing. I will assign each table a different ingredient to prepare. Yes, I know that there are 10 ingredients and 17 tables, some of you will be preparing the same things. Once you have prepared the ingredients, I will use them to create an _Ice Breath_ potion in this cauldron," she said pointing at the cauldron to the left of the desk. "At the same time, I will be preparing the potion's ingredients myself and brewing a potion using them in the other cauldron. Then, once both potions are complete, I will test them both and you will observe the differences."

The girl next to Harry raised her hand. "Yes, miss," she looked down at a sheet on the desk briefly, "Patil. You have a question?"

"Yes. Your instructions say to finely chop the wintermint leaves, thinly slice the holly root, and to dice frostfir seeds. They also say to crush the snowcrest berries and to powder the dried heather blossoms. These instructions seem very similar. What is the difference between slicing and dicing or crushing and powdering?"

"Ah, that is exactly the point of today's lesson. Two points to Ravenclaw. I will not be giving you any additional instructions my dear. Figure it out to the best of your abilities on your own, and we will see what happens."

So various ingredients were passed out and the students did what they could to prepare everything. Once they were done, professor Heath collected all the ingredients and carefully prepared both potions simultaneously while narrating each step and the purpose of each ingredient. An hour into class and the potions were complete. The one on the left was a swirling milky blue while the potion on the right was a crystal-clear pale aquamarine.

"We will begin with your potion," the friendly professor said collecting a small flask of the cloudy potion. She lifted it up to the light and carefully inspected it. The potion was completely opaque. Taking a small sip, she breathed in, faced one of the tables that had a target placed upon it, and expelled a sluggish grey-white mist. Everything the mist touched was covered in a thin layer of jagged grey ice that did not appear dissimilar to the dirty ice you find next to a busy road the day after it snows. The professor coughed twice and took a drink of water. She motioned for the class to come forward and examine the ice. It was rapidly melting and already slushy. Vertical surfaces, such as the table's legs and the target, already had the ice sliding off of them.

Inspections done and notes taken, professor Heath took the other potion, the one she had worked on from start to finish. She held it up to the light, saw how it created an almost prismatic effect causing vibrant blue light to dance around the classroom, and took a sip. The difference in quality was immediately evident. This cloud of mist was a brilliant white fog that moved rapidly as if propelled by a stiff wind. Everything it touched froze solid with a much thicker layer of clear smooth ice that had a slight aqua tint. The class came forward and took a look at it. There was mist rising from the ice. It was very cold and very smooth. The ice on the target was over an inch thick and gently domed- it was thickest right over the bull's eye.

"See the difference? We have 15 minutes left in class and what I want for you and your partner to do is to write a paragraph- that is no less than 4 inches of parchment- examining the differences between the two potions and the reasons for those differences. If you cannot finish by the end of class you are to complete it for Friday as homework."

* * *

Harry's next class, transfiguration, took place in a classroom of moderate size on the first floor overlooking the lake far below. It was easy to find as it was located in a corridor that cut from the grand staircase coming up from the entrance hall to what Harry had dubbed the 'evil moving staircase chamber'. They were informed that this room, while always in this section of the castle, sometimes wandered about and was often found a corridor or two over.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for her class to arrive and she began teaching the moment class was scheduled to begin and not an instant before.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said while carefully looking each and every student in they eye to ensure all were listening. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Apparently satisfied that her students had taken her warning to heart, she turned to her desk and turned it into a pig with a sharp flick of her wand to the delight of her class, surveyed the room once more, and then returned it to being a desk.

"Now, transfiguration is a very diverse subject. It is also a very difficult subject. I will be holding you all to the highest standards during our time together and expect all of you to perform admirably. Basic transfiguration is one of the fundamentals of wizardry and acts as the foundation for several much more complex subjects- Animation, Conjuration, and Alchemy among them. These are electives that you may take after your fifth year is complete should you perform sufficiently in the prerequisite O.W.L.s.

"While I am certain that you are all excited to be learning how to temporarily change one object into another," there was a collective groan from the class. "Yes, temporarily. If you want your changes to be permanent, you need to know alchemy, and that also requires potion-making skills of the highest degree. Do know that 'temporary' does not necessarily mean 'short'. A masterful transfiguration could remain in effect for months and a spell to reshape the very earth beneath our feet might last indefinitely.

"Now, as I was saying, we will not be working on any complex spells for a while. First, we need to cover the theory. You need to know exactly what you are doing, how you are doing it, and why it works before attempting all but the simplest of transfiguration spells. As transfiguration requires a lot of mental fortitude, creativity, and control, it could be months for you to even complete the most basic of transfigurations. These are skills that are slowly built over time, and are necessary basics for any spells you may wish to cast.

"That said we will be working on some simple spells. Magic is like a muscle. The more you work at it, the stronger it becomes- to a point of course. As important as theory is, without practice at putting it into action you are unlikely to accomplish much of anything. Today you will all be attempting to turn a matchstick into a needle. Let us begin."

By the time class was complete only two students had made any progress whatsoever on their matchsticks. Hermione's match had taken on a slight silver sheen and was pointier than before. Harry's, however, looked very much like a needle but still felt wooden rather than metal. McGonagall congratulated both of them with a smile and asked Harry to stay behind a moment.

"Do you know what you accomplished today?" She asked him once the rest of the class had filed out the door.

"No professor."

"In all my years of teaching I have never seen anyone come so close to completing a transfiguration on their first day. Not even those with some magical training under their belt have done so."

"I feel Hermione's accomplishment is more impressive professor. She didn't have any magical training at all before coming to school and yet managed an impressive result. What I managed wasn't anything special, Lorelei would have scolded me for failing to complete the task in our allotted time."

McGonagall was taken aback, she had not expected such a response. "Hermione does appear to be an exceptionally talented young witch. But again, even the most exceptionally talented could not have managed such a thorough transformation. Developmentally young witches and wizards are simply unable to muster the required willpower until later in the school year- after several months of training- and typically witches manage it before wizards as they develop faster. So how did you do it and what do you mean that Lorelei would have scolded you? Who is this Lorelei?"

"Lorelei is my master in magecraft and, being both the most exceptional magus of this age and a Barthomeloi, demands nothing less than perfection, so I give it to her. To fail here at this simple task is… disappointing."

"I see," McGonagall let out a shaky breath. Magecraft. That would explain it. Dumbledore hadn't told her any specifics when he had left to 'secure Potter' after finally locating him when the letters were written and sent. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn't this. She had heard the stories. Of how magi were exceptionally focused upon their craft, scarily focused, to the point where (if the stories were to be believed) they could scarcely be considered human. She would have to keep her eye on Potter (or was it now Brunestud? What even was that all about?) to make sure he was not heading down a dark path.

Focusing on the present once more and regarding him in a new light, she responded. "You shouldn't feel bad that you did not complete the task. You were not expected to for weeks yet. As I have already stated, transfiguration is a very difficult and demanding subject. Your magus training will certainly give you a leg up in all your classes, perhaps for several years even, but do not slack off or you will suddenly find your classmates to be beyond you. Now, you had best be on to your next class- music is located in the conservatory across from the greenhouses."

* * *

Music class was held in a spacious glass-walled building. Most of its sliding doors were open as the weather was pleasant. Harry arrived a few minutes late as he had been turned around a few times before making it to the marble staircase, but the professor- a tall and large boned woman with graying hair and prominent laugh-lines- had excused his tardiness. Professor Melody, as she insisted the students call her, was introducing them to all manner of instruments both magical and mundane. They were informed that every music class would perform before the entire school at the closing feast- it was their final exam. The professor also informed them that at the end of the year they would be asked to continue with either music or art as their schedules would be too full the following year to pursue both. It was a fun class, full of discordant noise and laughter as various instruments were tried by students that had no idea how to play them. Before being released their professor assigned a very simple piece of homework: listen to at least three wizarding songs and attempt to pick out the instruments played.

Dinner was boisterous once more as the first year Hufflepuff students swapped impressions of the various classes with their elders in between teasing Tonks about her actions that morning and asking about the many teachers eating at the staff table they had not yet had. As it turned out, Hogwarts had an incredibly customizable curriculum in the upper years with dozens of advanced specialties that the older Hufflepuffs were very happy to explain. Whether they knew it or not, these first impressions of the various tracks that were offered shaped many of the young Hufflepuffs' future studies.

Following dinner many sleepy and satisfied students trudged back into their common rooms. While their thoughts of revenge on the wicked Ravenclaws the following Monday had been temporarily forgotten, they were quickly reminded of their egregious lack of ability in Wyrms & Wizards by a trio of sadistic 6th year students. Before they could be goaded into yet another disastrous expedition, Professor Sprout bustled in and informed everyone that she would be the WM (Wyrm Master) for the evening. Eager 6th and 7th year students, or at least those that did not yet have too much homework, lined up. The first years decided to observe their adversaries' struggles, to wait and to learn. They would have their revenge, eventually.

Harry begged leave from the evening's activity as he had work to do. The night before he had neglected his magecraft in the excitement and would have to spend two hours working on it to make it up. He had hit something of a roadblock lately in his studies but had promised his master that he would spend an hour a day (with the exception of Saturday when he would spend 4 hours) practicing to keep his skills sharp. That night he dreamt of a calm beach with a blood-red sun beginning to rise from the ocean, and the barest hints of distant clouds.

* * *

 _Wednesday_

The morning was beginning to become a routine. Wake up at 7:15, wake Neville, shower, be at breakfast by 8 o'clock sharp, talk to someone, and eat. This morning, much like the last, that someone found him. Unlike the previous days it wasn't his Slytherin friends or his suddenly teleport-capable mother but the Gryffindor prefect with a personality the size of the moon he had met at lunch two days earlier. He had only just sat down and was about to take his first bite of roast tomato when she plopped into the seat next to him.

"So, how's school been so far Harry?" She asked with a grin, snagging a sausage from his plate.

"So far? Pretty good. The only classes we haven't had yet are whatever is on the schedule for today- all it says is 'History'- and flying tomorrow afternoon."

"And your thoughts on the professors?"

"You want _my_ opinion? Why?"

"Because you seem similar to myself," she explained, now munching on his crumpet (A/N for Americans- we know them as English muffins). "A very talented wizard who had been tutored by the best minds available but finds himself stifled and decided to come to this school to get some space from an overbearing family."

"That's a very specific definition. It's also wrong."

"Oh, how so? Prove it." Yuri had a massive grin on her face and her eyes danced, as if she was in on some private joke.

"Because it was my 'tutor' that decided I was to come to Hogwarts in the first place. I didn't particularly want to come, but she insisted and my family supported her decision."

"Ah, it seems I got it exactly wrong," she said with a wry smile. "Your situation is actually the exact opposite of my own. But you know what they say, opposites attract!"

"I'm 11."

"Doesn't mean we can be friends," she replied throwing an arm around his shoulders. Harry futilely tried to throw it off. When he had given up, her grin returned in full force. "That's it, give in, join the dark side, we have cookies!"

"Oi!" Nymphadora (she threw a glare at Harry- it appeared that she was psychic), er… Tonks (the glare vanished) called from several places down the table. "Don't go corrupting our youth Yuri! Go pick on your own firsties!"

"Like you're one to talk Nym!" She yelled back. "You're the one who taught me to act like this."

"Don't backtalk your superiors Yuri! You know the rules. If you wish to continue being an honorary member of my house you had better behave."

Yuri grumbled. "I can arrange an unfortunate and untraceable accident for your W&W character during tonight's session if you like." Yuri immediately quieted. "That's what I thought." Tonks went back to her breakfast.

"We can have honorary Hufflepuffs?" Harry asked.

Tonks looked up with a grin, "Sure can, just be sure to clear it with a prefect first. Don't want our awesomeness spreading to outsiders. I adopted Yuri here when I was an ickle second year. She was lost and so cute, having just arrived from Korea and barely being able to speak English. And now look at her, she's not cute at all anymore. I sometimes wonder why I even bothered."

Yuri stuck out her tongue at Tonks, then turned back to Harry and stole several pieces of bacon from him. "Oi! Get your own plate!"

"Don't wanna," she said while crunching on it. "So, the reason I come before you today is that I want you to join my club."

"Your club?"

"Indeed. I run the MMA club here at Hogwarts and you seem like someone who will do well in it."

"Mixed martial arts? And why do you think I'll do well?"

"Nope. Magical martial arts, my family's specialty. And as for you doing well, you already have the bearing of a warrior- of one who has seen combat."

"I have seen combat, but only a little actual combat. It was mostly spars against my very powerful… aunt? Sister? I'm never really sure what to call her and she doesn't exactly have blood ties to my adoptive mother, but at the same time sorta does. It's complicated. She's been training me in combat since I was six." At this Harry's good mood faded, his memories of happy days with Illya now long past returning in full force.

"Something wrong?" Yuri asked in concern, sensing the shift.

"I had a friend when I began training. She was by my side for nearly two years. I have not heard from her since. So," he continued, changing the subject with false cheer, "tell me about your family and how you ended up half way around the world in Jolly Ol' England."

Yuri brightened at the change in the mood, eager to talk about herself and avoid what was clearly a sore subject for Harry. "My family is one of the ten great families- or clans- of Korea. Each family has a specialty and the strongest in each generation is given the title 'Jahad' and rules over magical Korea like a king. Once they are old or tired of ruling, they pick their successor from the next generation. It is considered a great honor and the family chosen is elevated in status. If a member of a lesser family is chosen, they can be elevated in status to a great family, and the least of the great families will be relegated to being a lesser family to keep the balance and allow in new blood. It also works as a great incentive to keep older families from becoming complacent in their power.

"When I was 8 I was chosen to become the next Jahad. 'A once in a century talent' they called me. I was given the best of everything and treated as if I was made of glass. Honorable successor this. Honorable successor that. It was stifling. It was infuriating. So I left. I did, of course, receive the blessing of the current Jahad and promised to do what I could to find and cultivate talents abroad to bring back to the ten families to appease the elders. And now I run the MMA club and may become a teacher here after I graduate to delay my return. So, that's my story. What's yours?"

"Before I start on my story, could you tell me something about your family's specialty?"

"Mystical martial arts. We specialize in infusing our bodies with magical energy- which we call 'gi', you'd be more familiar with the term 'chi', when around non-magical marital artists- and unleashing devastating magical attacks. It is a skill that can be taught, and I do teach it to members of the club, but those born into my family have a natural attunement to our arts just as the Khun family has a natural attunement to wandless lighting-based magical attacks and the Lo Po Bia family has a natural ability to summoning and control spectral beasts."

'Interesting,' Harry mused. 'That almost sounds like a sorcery trait. I may need to join her club to see if I can learn these abilities myself, they seem quite useful.'

Out loud he replied saying, "Well there's really not that much to say in my case. My family was killed by Voldemort during the war but in the process somehow ended his reign of terror. I was adopted by a very powerful magus and only now, after my teacher wrangled some concessions from Dumbledore, have been allowed to start my education in wizardry."

'A magus?' Yuri thought as she grinned. 'Perfect. I do believe that this is the start of a wonderful, and mutually beneficial, friendship.'

* * *

History of magic, it turned out, was different from his earlier classes. It was held on Wednesday morning, both periods, in a large bowl-shaped room with stadium seating on the 4th floor. Unlike in Harry's previous classes, this one had members of every house in it. All 72 first-year students were in attendance. At the bottom of the room was a podium before a large curtain. This, Harry assumed, was where the teacher would stand. He had not yet heard anything about the illusive new history teacher. Apparently, the class had been taught by a ghost for many years, but he was so dreadfully boring that they finally had him exorcized and replaced with a real teacher.

Just as the class was beginning to become restless, there was a bang as a door at the front of the classroom was opened with such force that it left a dent in the solid stone wall. Neville was startled so badly he fell out of his chair. Harry thought he glimpsed something silver in color for an instant there in the doorway, but it vanished before he could be certain. The class waited with bated breath for a moment and, just as they decided that nothing was happening, Waver Velvet strode into the room.

 **-End Chapter 14-**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Yes, that is indeed Ha Yuri Jahad from the Korean webtoon _Tower of God._ Go read it if you haven't already done so. It is fantastic (though Line's translations can be a little... off at times).

Also, I was reading the descriptions of Harry's classes in _Philosopher's Stone_ in order to get a better idea of what they were in canon and realized that Rowling's descriptions are very minimalistic. She somehow managed to describe his classes in just a few sentences in book 1- giving us just enough detail to go "oh, ok then". Meanwhile, here I am going into a huge amount of detail… Then again she did the same in later books, the worst offender being book 5. It is so hard to get through the start of that book- week 1 is over 100 pages (after over 100 pages of Harry's summer and that farce of a trial). At least I have a good reason for going into detail- to contrast with canon and just how different things have become based on one change and the butterflies it caused.

Chapter 15 will be posted in a week.


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